Remember that old silent movie in which Buster Keaton is standing around innocently when the facade of a house falls on him? An open window in the facade passes over his body, so that he is left untouched.
All my life has been like that Buster Keaton movie. Again and again I would make rash and utterly stupid decisions which would cause house facades to fall on me, but somehow there was always that open window.
My best friend for thirty years, Noel Butler, who observed me from his vantage point of an older age and a more or less settled existence, once observed that, like a cat, I seemed to be possessed of nine lives.
You should've given me more credit than that, Noel. To survive all those disasters and mishaps and wrong turns taken, all of my own choosing and self-inflicted, I've had to have at least a score or two of extra lives.
I had better stop right here before another facade falls on me. This time my luck may have run out and a window may not have been left open.
