It was my father's cousin Harold, the same as had given me the full set of the Book of Knowledge when I was ten years old, who,

When I was twelve years old, made sure that I was enrolled in 4-H Future Farmers of America, and drove with me among his herd of hereford cattle to select a steer for me to raise and fatten for show and sale the following spring.  Raising a steer was a lot of work, involving an unthinkable amount of bovine excrement, but I pursued it with grim determination, becoming, as I now reflect on it, both competent and confident in precisely the way that such programs are intended to prepare the Children of Privilege for the self-reliant management of their own affairs.  When the animal I had cared for so assiduously for the better part of a year was driven off, and the judges of the 4-H Roundup and Sale, handed me the check for his market value, I was exhausted, dry-eyed, and ready to begin the next phase of my life.  I deposited the check in the bank and waited.