For years I had wanted to meet Kurt Vonnegut. Then, about 10 years ago, I saw him on some sort of show. I forget the exact nature of it. Vonnegut must have talking about Hocus Pocus or maybe even Timequake. But the point here is that he was old, an old old man. And there he was only 74. I’ve never really made peace with the old man, in any form. And to see Vonnegut as an old man really bugged me. What time does to us. It’s cruel and pointless and vicious. But that’s my hang up. Anyway, my point is that from that time on, I figured that I would never get to meet Vonnegut. Who knew I’d have 10 years to throw away not meeting him? Still, in that time, I grew to accept that idols only exist in our perception of them. The Kurt Vonnegut that I wanted to meet was already in his books. It’s a trite philosophy, for sure, and one that allows me to rationalize my situation where I will meet nobody whom I idolize. But it is true. I may never be friends with someone like Vonnegut, but all my friends are partially friends with him, because of the huge influence he’s had on me.