One day an old tailor with a fat wallet once told me that early in his life opportunities flew by him like mile markers on the interstate. He went on to add that to him they only measured how far he had traveled, not whether he had actually learned anything. Now, he said, opportunities are more like cows in the field, near motionless, chewing on their cud, wasting away the day. He tries to make the most of them, but no matter how hard he works, all he has to show for his efforts is cow dung stuck to the bottom of his shoes where his soles, made of leather, have worn thin. I suggested to him that he change his shoes. He said, “What’s the use?” And I said, “Well, at least you won’t stink.”
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