The baby boomers, who appeared on the scene after the Second World War, are now standing at the door of old age.

Aging means more than thickened waists, graying hair and joint problems. It means no longer looking for work and, perhaps, empty nests, but it also means new responsibilities. It means writing a will to ensure your family and friends are not unduly burdened by your passing.

About the time we boomers transitioned from college to full employment, a new legal entity became popular: the do-it-yourself will. Several of my friends bought the forms, then available at bookstores and stationers (when was the last time you read the word stationers?).

I thought about such a form. It was inexpensive and simple. Then, I thought all I had to leave was my car, a Ford Pinto, as well as books, clothes, records and dishes. Why bother?

If I had talked to someone more knowledgeable or if I had thought about “my estate” for longer than 30 seconds, I should have realized that the car came with its own legal problems and that I had two cats to arrange care for.

Not long after I married, my husband and I, then renters, drew up wills with the help of a member of his brother’s law firm. Looking back, the process was scarcely more thorough than filling out a mas- produced firm. My brother-in-law may have spoken to us about our wishes, but, I don’t remember any such conversation. However, we were still without many possessions, except our two cars.

Two years later, we signed papers for the purchase of a house and moved in. A week after the move, we went to the local pound and adopted a half-grown, mixed German Shepherd pup I named Sarah. I was seven months pregnant. We never revised our wills, despite later selling that house and buying a larger one closer to Boston and having two more children and one more dog.

When we divorced in the 1990s, I created a new will. This time, I named a health care proxy and executrix — my best friend who was a probate lawyer. My daughter, then 19, was named alternate executrix. I also named a guardian for my sons, who were still minors. I had a short appointment with the lawyer who told me that his firm kept wills in their safe.

Over the years, my daughter has reminded me to create a new will and recommended the attorney she and her husband used.

I would agree that I should, but consumed with teaching, I gave the idea little thought until late last fall when my father died. To date, the settling of his small estate is running smoothly but the hospital seemed to have been unaware of his do-not-resuscitate order and revived him after he suffered a heart attack in the emergency room. He spent four unnecessary days in a coma before he was declared brain dead.

I made an appointment with my daughter’s lawyer whose practice is limited to wills and the accompanying documents. He books a two-hour interview with his clients during which he informs them of the meaning of the legal documents and asks their wishes, concerns and needs.

When I walked into his office, I had totally forgotten that first will. I told him that I did not remember the name of the previous attorney nor the name of his firm. He asked whether I had talked to the lawyer again, which I had not. “That’s why you can’t remember his name.” Of course, it was why.

Creating a will reveals the rough patches and the empty spaces in your own life. It reminds you who your friends are. The long interview was draining but it was also reassuring.

I learned how much I did not know. I thought it would be smart to place my health care proxy in a safe deposit box. The lawyer vetoed that, advising that I place a photocopy in the box but keep the original at home, in case I, like my father, am found unconscious by one of my adult children.

Once again, my estate is small and simpler than many. While do-it-yourself forms still exist, they are not foolproof. Nor do they always solve the problems of an estate.

I do not know if the lawyer I worked with is typical of most, but there is no way I would try to create a will on my own.

Susan Wozniak, of Easthampton, is a retired journalist and writing professor who writes a monthly column. She can be reached at opinion@gazettenet.com.