MATT SEDENSKY
Associated Press Writer
MIAMI – On his 75th birthday, Bill Farthing decided to be reborn. In the six years since he’d buried his wife of 45 years, he’d felt as he did long before: Lonesome, different, outcast. He wondered if he was going crazy; he contemplated suicide.
Looking back, the clues leading to this day had been scattered throughout his life, but only made sense just now.
So Farthing dressed in the most basic of blue wool skirt suits he could find on the Internet, with a white blouse and low-heeled, open-toed white shoes, and went shopping. Arms loaded with skirts and blouses from the clearance rack, Farthing approached the checkout.