Several years ago, I slipped on black ice and broke my ankle forcing me to spend six weeks in a nursing home and an additional six weeks in the “handicapped accessible” apartment of my daughter and her husband on West End Avenue in Manhattan.  They went about their busy New York lives, leaving me in the gentle care of the housekeeper, Julia.  Unable to go out on my own, I found myself confined to the guest room with its glorious 11th floor views of the city, and nothing to do.  In retrospect, it was one of the most productive, wonderful periods of my life.