Growing Up Means Claiming Your Own Mind
Image by Natalia Blauth.
Dig, ponder, dig some more.
A year ago I wrote a column about some of the early moments of my growing up – not just memories but profound moments of awareness; flickers, you might say, of becoming who I am. I was 77 at the time. Now I’m . . . oh yeah, 78. Can you believe it? Another year is almost over. Holiday season shimmers, the smell of pine is in the air. It’s Christmas: a perfect time to open, once again, the stocking known as memory.
In last year’s column...
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