Ten years ago, I arrived in Texas. Upon arrival, I joshed with the immigration folk and was let in, and then promptly almost got arrested as a kiddy fiddler.
I noted a decade ago that I didn’t really know what I was coming to Texas for, and still haven’t joined alcoholics anonymous or bought a gun. Perhaps I came as part of my personal growth project, or to get onto the front page of a newspaper without going to jail.
Bizarrely, my wife called me a hippie today. Maybe in the last quarter of my life I have displayed some hippie tendencies – I like to travel and sometimes eschew planning such things. I have a beard of sorts. But I have never knowingly or consciously worn tie-die. Maybe that’s in store for the next decade.