Stranger Than Most
I’m jealous of my older brother for several things, none of which include his being older. Mostly I resent the fact that he knew, seemingly from birth, what he wanted to do with his life (become a physicist) while I floundered around for years trying to get a clue. I remember one day, when we were both still teenagers, asking him the point of studying physics.
“So we can figure out what holds the universe together,” he replied. “That’s easy,” I quipped. “Gravity.” “But what’s gravity?” “Who cares as long as it works?”
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