Chapter 1
When I was a toddler my daddy gave me tools instead of toys. My favorite was the hammer. I learned to use it by pounding nails through old Hills Brothers coffee tins, entertaining myself and letting my mother know where I was.
At some point this began to grow old so I turned my attention to targets that moved, ants in particular. I sat by their busy thoroughfares and watched them for long periods of time. Their no-nonsense lines, stretching across the sidewalk, fascinated my 4-year-old mind. So much so that I made what now seems a fateful decision—I intervened in their tiny lives, smashing them randomly with my hammer.
I knew it was OK to kill as many as I could because my mother became very passionate when she found them in the house. What did I know about “kill” anyway?
I was especially enthusiastic about those that tried to get away. I watched a particular ant run up against the smashed body of its comrade and then go berserk, racing around aimlessly until the hammer of fate smacked him too.
I think it is true that our lives are largely determined by what we experience as children. Looking back on it now, it is quite clear my fortune was cast when I picked up that man-sized hammer with my small hands and smashed that first ant.
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