(Continued from page 31)

While I am in the begging mood, another question comes to mind. If someone has stolen my identity, who in the world am I? And, how do I reclaim my identity?

As a young person whenever my mother was upset with me about something I had done or did not do, she would always look at me and ask, "Who do you think you are?"

If anybody in the world should know who I am it would be my mother. And if she he was wrestling with the same question I was wrestling with, how in the world could I ever come to grips with my personal identity?

It is hard enough discovering who you are without somebody casting dispersions upon that very thing. Perhaps my mother and I could work together in solving this problem. After all, two heads are better than one, unless one does not know who he is.

I have spent years trying to find myself. Once I thought I found myself but it turned out to be an old pair of socks I lost three years prior.

My problem is compounded by this one thing, I did not really know who I was before my identity was stolen. I had my suspicions, of course. However, somewhere in the back of my mind, I really could not come to grips with who I really was in this world.

In the course of time, (actually it was a four-course lunch) I have come to several conclusions.

First, I am a man. What kind of a man, is anyone's guess this point. The truth is that at the root of everything I am, I am a man.

Second, I am a husband. This, of course, is the most baffling of my identity. What it means to be a husband differs from wife to wife. Fortunately, for me, I have only one wife, but even her idea of a husband changes from one moment to the next. I am never sure what she expects of me as a husband. Once I thought I had it all figured out but someone, I am not mentioning any names, changed the rules.

Third, I am a father. As a father, my role consists of bankrolling the childhood adventures of my children; financing their higher education career, hoping they get

(Continued on page 33)