She told me that I should learn how to drink milk because it was important if I wanted to become a strong man. I preferred to drink chocolate milk, thank-you. Tough men have rotten teeth.

I went home and told my mother about the important job I was about to undertake. For some reason, she just laughed. I wiled away the hours waiting for the older boys to come home and just as the sun was setting, Bill's older brothers, Bobby and Jim, came to get me.

They had bats and a BB gun, a burlap sack and flashlights. They gave me a flashlight and we were off to hunt snipes. They explained to me that they didn't normally allow kids to hold the bag but they thought if I was brave enough, they might let me give it a try. They explained the process and made me swear not to drop the bag. Then they described the terrible results of being bitten by a snipe, how they drilled under your skin and tormented you for days while they chewed on your flesh from the inside. They also warned me that they were nearly invisible and that it took a lot of them to fill up the bag. It never occurred to me to ask why we were hunting them or what we would do with them once we caught them. But I was getting nervous at the thought of being bitten by hundreds of them while I held that bag.

Bobby and Jim suddenly crouched down and began to whisper. It was getting dark and we all turned on our flashlights. Mine flickered and then went out within a few seconds. They assured me that I wouldn't need it anyway. Then they told me to stay put until I heard them whistle. They would herd them into my bag. As soon as I heard the whistling, I was supposed to open the bag and wait.

I got a sinking feeling in my gut as they walked away. I could see their flashlights as they wandered off. I froze, awaiting the signal. Before long they began to whistle and I opened the bag as I had been instructed. Then they started screaming and yelling as they all ran toward me.

“Here they come, Rod! Look out! There's a lot of them!” they yelled.

As they got near, all the noise and fear grew to a fever pitch. Suddenly Bobby started wailing, “Ahh one of them got me! Oh, it hurts so much! Look out, Rod! Be careful! Don't let them bite you!” And with that, they all started screaming and yelling and beating the ground with their bats.

I snapped. I threw down my flashlight and the bag and took off running as fast as I could. I didn't stop running until I got home. It seemed like I could hear them laughing but I was too scared to slow down.

When I got there, Rose and Mom were sitting at the kitchen table having coffee. Rose asked me how it went. I thought about it for a moment before I said, “I don't like snipe hunting.”

Mom spit her coffee and Rose broke into laughter. Mom said, “Now you know how Bill felt earlier today. Do you think maybe you should apologize to Bill for what you did?”

Everything became clear to me. It all made sense. But admitting I had done something bad still was not in my repertoire. I tried to lie my way out of it. So Mom had to force me to apologize and marked it down as an important lesson. But it took several years before I truly understood the importance of admitting my mistakes.

From my earliest days, I was at the top of my class. I was one of the older kids in my grade and that gave me a jump start on the rest. I believe it determined what kind of person I would be. I was called on to be the leader in those early days. I was president of the class in the second grade. It all went to my head. I started to believe I was smarter than anybody else. Needless to say, it was a trait I would soon have to shed if I was going to succeed in life. I have never understood why smart people are not smart enough to see how obnoxious they are.

Those early days at my home in Louisville exposed me to some of the best people I ever met. All of my boyhood friends went on to great success. I still envy them their nice big homes and beautiful lives...in a benevolent way. I admire them more than I envy them. They were able to succeed far beyond my own accomplishments. I often think I reached too far, saw myself as something too special. And as a result, the simple middle class prosperity enjoyed by all my friends and family has eluded me. I don't blame Catholicism any more than I blame myself for believing the hype. But I often wish I had forgotten the dreams and kept a steady job.

Now that I am nearing 60, I constantly remind myself to admit my mistakes and stay humble; to praise the work of my friends and associates and deflect praise to them. I get much pleasure from the pursuit of this goal. There is much to be said for aiming within your reach.