When I was around 9, I lined up the milk glasses rim to rim, and tried to fill them by pouring continuously. No hesitation between glasses. A mess on the counter.

When I was around 10 I threw the contents of a bowl of rice at my brother. I did it to see what would happen. I reasoned that if I didn’t do it then, well when? (It messed his shirt, his chair, the floor, and sent me to my room).

When I was around 11 I talked Steve into helping me with the famous Andy experiments. We blindfolded our toddler brother and fed him various edibles, from ice cream to horseradish.

When I was around 12 I cursed at Steve in front of Mom (you Goddamn son of a bitch!) and got sent to my room again. (Anyone who knows me well knows that’s no punishment).

I look back on the kid who did those things and I wonder. What I remember is feeling I wanted the experience even if it meant taking some punishment. I knew it would irk my companion but no way did I think it would damage him or her. And it didn’t.

I remember that feeling of inevitability, when I knew I was going to have to step forward and do something, or otherwise it might not get done. I recall my fellows all around, tending to look down, step back, hesitate.

What was that, in me?