On The Nature Of Fresh Beautiful Summer Saturday Mornings.

I know because I've been lucky enough to be teaching a course called THE AMERICAN DREAM IN FILM with my brilliant history colleague, Dr. Case, that it is a particular feature of a particular generation that I grew up with parents who told me, "You could do anything you wanted to."

That comical mix of bravado, progress, self-obsession, entitlement and optimism are particular to their generation and much of mine.

The funny thing is my parents REALLY convinced me that I was capable of doing anything I wanted to.

I was in my thirties before I truly wholeheartedly relinquished this notion.

(And, may I pause, and say for the record, that this really does reflect a mangificent bit of parenting on my parents part. Rarely has a child been more loved and cared for in the world than I was. I harbor no ill will nor regret for the way that my parents' prowess just happened to mix with a curious American cultural moment to create this misapprehension.)

The funny thing is that now: even though I know my limits much better. And that feels nice?

...now...still...on a fresh beautiful summer saturday morning, I feel capable of anything. Of everything.

I know that likely the midday will feel like middle age with all of its hurdles and obstacles and improbabilities, and that sleep will feel like that last welcome night coming to relieve me of my tired ambition, but....til then - WOW.

I feel 21. For the next hour at least.

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