This month marks a somewhat terrifying milestone in the life of my family. In a couple of weeks, our daughter will be a teenager. It's been coming on for a while now – the eye rolling, the constant texting, the bikini-clad beach walking – but I've been in denial.
As a columnist, I'm what they call a "generalist." I know a little about a lot, and a lot about very little. I'm extremely interested, but only moderately informed. (When you spread your curiosity so thin, your knowledge tends to be wide, not deep.) So, you'll have to go elsewhere, reader, for your experts and specialists, your connoisseurs and aficionados. Here on this page, it's all amateur hour, all the time.
It ain't easy writing a column from a high-rise condo in Myrtle Beach while attending a family reunion. This festive get-together has been happening every summer for as long as I can remember, and with almost 30 people in attendance – ranging in age from 8 months to 75 years – it's not particularly conducive to contemplation. Or concentration.