To Judah on His Eighth Birthday
I remember when I was eight and my father, your grandfather, had a talk with me one night. We were outside of the house on Nichols Rd. in Blue Lake. The firepit was just a little way from the house and made out of cement. When the fire would heat up enough sometime parts of the cement would explode, because of the expanding air bubbles in the cement. We had larger bonfires further away from the house, halfway to the barn, but this night we had a smaller fire by the house. Grandpa Roger explained to me that now that I was eight I was old enough to understand that I was responsible for my life. I knew I had choices, and I knew there would be consequences. A lot of people think eight is too young for that responsibility, but they are wrong. You make hundreds of choices per day about what you're going to work on and what you're going to ignore, how you're going to talk with people, what you're going to think about and plan, and more. So I give you this same advice, realize ...