1959
In 1959 I was the nine-year-old "kid with the funny accent" who had just moved from Alabama to Northern California.
I never did really fit in.
In 1969 I was in England at RAF Croughton.
I didn't fit in there, either.
In 1979 I was in Copenhagen, Denmark, doing volunteer work.
Amazingly, I didn't fit in. I know, you're shocked.
In 1989 I was in Las Vegas, running my own business, doing custom software and other geek stuff.
It didn't matter whether I fit in, 'cuz I was the boss. Sort of.
In 1999 I was writing data warehouse code for big important companies at the behest of other people who wanted to be big and important. Everyone else involved got rich or famous. I just got the code written.
You won't believe this, but I didn't fit in there, either.
In 2009 I was working on rebuilding my private practice while working for other people who wanted to be rich and famous.
I have no desire to fit in. Not any more.
I've found very few folks over the years with whom "fitting in" would be worthwhile.
Now, if my grandfather, gone these 45 years, could see that I have preserved some of what was important to him, that would please me.
He bought me my first knife. I didn't get it until I was sixteen, but he bought it from America's first pocket knife company, Holley Knives. Probably before I was born.
I got my first Imperial from my Dad. November 1, 1961, the day I turned twelve.
Still have it. That knife is 47 years old.
Remember all those places overseas where I didn't fit in? That knife was there with me.
That's quite a bit of road together.
Done a lot of stupid things in my life. Every so often, though, I get one right.
Keeping faith with my dad's gift is one of them.
Chasing the newest, coolest, "cutting edge" stuff, while forgetting the older, reliable, traditional ways . . . file that one under stupid.
Every so often, though, someone illuminates the things of value and changes the way I look at things.
Thank you, Steve.