Poor Icarus, his father, Daedalus, made him some wings and told his son not to fly too high or too low. If he flew too high, the sun would melt his wings, and too low, the ocean’s moisture would clog them. So his father, in essence, told him to conform.
My father would espouse moderation, of which to this day, I know very little. So, for me, it’s back in the game with a vengeance.
My feeling is, you have to die from something. I have always believed that anything worth doing, is worth overdoing. My life has always had a certain buoyancy. I may go under but I always bounce back up. Why else would they name me “Bob”? 🙂