I said something to my doc about getting older. I want to be young. He called me Peter Pan.
Does anyone really want to get older once you’re in your twenties? That seems the optimum age. You’ve got your health. Nothing’s sagging. Happiness comes cheaper.
On my way from his office to the station I drove through the Yale campus. At York and Elm I could feel the vibe. Even cocooned in my car the power of youth penetrates. It’s that strong.
There they were — young, smart, motivated… thin. They were moving quickly–with purpose. Damn them. I wish I could be them.
Back in my college days I was smart enough… just not smart enough to give the impression of smart enough. The curse of the youthful underachiever.
The Yalies seemed carefree. How do you pull that off? I’ve forgotten how to be carefree.
If that’s Peter Pan so be it.