On Feb. 15, young men ran through the streets of ancient Rome wearing only goatskins to celebrate Lupercalia. We have goatskins in Clear Creek but all occupied by original tenants. Not being a great white hunter, my preference is to allow them to continue being comfortable in their own skins.
On Feb. 15, 1950, I was wearing not a goatskin, but a birthday suit, the last time I was so underdressed in public.
Turning 62 happens only once in a person’s life. I don’t read too much into it because each birthday is a one-time event. Life is quirky that way.
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