A Virginian and my cousin by birth, a world traveller by choice, Roy credits his good health to the many oranges he plucked fresh from the trees in Southern California where he spent his youth.

As childhood playmates, he and I spent hours together riding horses bareback through the fields of our family dairy farm on the Oregon coast. He gallantly rode Glassy, a Welsh pony with a bony backbone. I ignored Roy's discomfort as I thumped my heels against the plump sides of Mickey, our other Welsh pony, and galloped into the sunset....