When growing up, I knew who had it all down; who could figure out the answers to problems; who you could go to when you had puzzler: Me!
What a doofus. I still don’t know how to fix cars, I was only as good a cook as my mother made me, I only read because of my father’s zeal for reading, and I frankly didn’t know much beyond the small space in front of my nose. Teenagers, I look back with embarrassment, know everything. I sometimes wish I were that confident today.