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Malcolm Gladwell calls it the ‘Tipping Point’. The critical moment where the smallest thing could make a huge difference. That one moment that completely alters the trajectory of your life.
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In his book, The Tipping Point, Mr. Gladwell does not assert that childhood has a ‘tipping point’ but I believe childhood has an inexhaustible number of ‘tipping points’. I’d be willing to bet anything that you totally agree with me. I have little doubt that if you took a second to reflect on your own childhood you’d remember some seemingly trivial incident that undoubtedly impacted the course of your life. Recently, I was asked to reflect on my life and my childhood. Upon reflection, a couple of tipping point moments immediately came to mind. I WANT TO RIDE MY BICYCLE During the...
I spent my summers in a quiet, mostly childless neighborhood tucked away on a hill on the south side of town
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You could circumnavigate the entire neighborhood in 10 minutes on a bike if you didn’t mind powering up a long, gradual incline and a blind curve in either direction. I used to lament the neighborhood’s lack of children because I had no one to play with. I spent a lot of summers sitting outside with notebooks, drawing or writing stories or coming up with my own imaginative games. Most of all, I spent time in the woods across from my house, a plot of land big enough to build on, only no one ever had. I never had a clubhouse....