Being middle-aged and rapidly ascending the slopes of Mount Geezerhood, I find myself in the increasingly awkward situation of not knowing what I want to be when I grow up. Like any strapping, red-blooded American boy, I went through much of my life more than a little concerned about what it meant to be ‘strapping’.
I also went through the typical childhood process of determining my future profession from my consumption of 1970s television. Over time, I weeded out many of these options based on the information I gleaned from my expert friends at school who seemed so much more worldly than I—the very same ‘experts,’ I later realized, who ate boogers and paste. Continue reading