"In the olden days," to use a favorite expression of my four-year-old grandson, summer equaled suntan. I am embarrassed to admit that at my first job after college, an easy walk from my apartment, I had no qualms about racing home on my lunch hour, changing into a bathing suit, spending 20 minutes on the roof of my apartment building to fry in the sun and then hustling back to work.

Let's face it. We look better tan.

We didn't know about bad rays vs. not-so-bad rays then. It was all about tanning oil, not SPF 30.

Then we learned about tanning's potential role in skin cancer and the need for protective creams—be sure to use at least two tablespoons and re-apply every couple of hours. At the same time, tanning salons were attracting the beautiful young folks. Quel dilemma!

The latest advice is that we, especially in the northeast, need some unscreened sun to allow our body to produce Vitamin D.

I do attribute some of my wrinkles to the innocence of my youth. But I still look a lot better when I am tan.