Editorial

This is not a memory. This is me, addressing you, my voracious reader.

As a rule, I've been trying to write these memories in chronological order. With a few exceptions, everything I've written so far happened at some time between my birth and my entering into puberty. I am now thinking about moving on to later years, but there are a couple of things I have neglected to write, for personal reasons.

And here I am drawing a line.

Self-exposure has done well for many people at present. (And I am loathe to admit that my surrounding culture influences me in this way. I would love to be above it all, I think.) However, I maintain for the moment that the pursuit of reckless honesty has accelerated a bit beyond its usefulness.

I would explain why I think this, but that kind of philosophical exploration is not welcome here.

Pay your debts

I was probably about 10 years old. My dad was driving his van and I was sitting shotgun. He said to me, "If you gamble, pay your debts."

J.J.

I had this friend in high school who told harmless lies. I didn't talk much then and his harmless lies filled the time well. One day he told a bunch of lies about me. I don't know if anybody believed them.

I didn't seek revenge and I didn't ask him why he did it. From that day forward, we were simply no longer friends.