Getting older has it's advantages. If you haven't ruined your nervous system with drink or drugs, the accumulated experience of years of interacting with thousands makes it easier to see the truth behind the lie and the absence of evidence behind the statement of conviction. False friends are easier to spot and if you are really lucky, it begins to become easier to know what it is that makes you happy.
I don't remember thinking much about what I needed to make me happy before the age of 11. Happiness kind of just rolled in on it's own in small waves made up of simple things like digging holes, eating, camping, shooting trap and clamming with my father and his buddies and, as you see in this photo that my brother posted on Facebook last night, trying to tease a meal from Long Island Sound.
I'm the chubby guy in the middle. The kid in the foreground with the bamboo pole is my brother Gary and the kid in the background is Ed Hart who lived across the street from us in Glen Cove, NY.
Where does the time go people? Ah, to be ten again!