Arrows Pointing Upward

"When I grow up I'll be an artist!"
Said I at the age of three.
"As usual, you're not the smartest,"
My older sister scolded me.

"How often do you buy a picture?
Why not be practical instead?
Bake something that's a daily fixture --
Become a baker and bake bread."

So I became an artist
Because I'm not the smartest.

After fifty years of life, I am still a small-town boy from Ohio at heart. I might just as well remained that way in reality. Instead I have spent nearly half that life in the Nation's capital, all because I accepted a job offer from a man who died just two months ago, and who was memorialized today.

(Stay tuned...)