I’ve always been a risk taker.
When I was a freshman in high school, I took my first commuter train ride into downtown Chicago. A friend had told me I could buy a magazine full of pictures of “pretty girls” at a drug store on State Street.
There I was, at age 14, in a strange, big city searching for forbidden fruit. I found the drug store. For appearance’s sake, I stood in line holding a Chicago Tribune, three packs of gum, a tube of Pepsodent toothpaste and the aforementioned magazine. The old fella behind the counter smiled, rang up all my other items but held on to the magazine.
I got lost and scared before getting on the wrong commuter at the train station. I wound up in a Chicago suburb, 40 miles from home, clutching my bag with the tube of Pepsodent inside.
As an elder gentleman, I still take risks. However, now I don’t have my dad to call to get me home safely.