In 1900 my grandpa Patterson was born in a coal camp high up on the Arkansas River in the Colorado Rockies. A self-taught free-thinker, syndicated columnist and cartoonist (and no blood kin to me), my grandpa was a natural-born teacher who took a powerful interest in schooling me in, among many other things, the wicked ways of this crazy dog-eat-dog world. For what he took to be a whole battery of sound experiential and historical reasons, my grandpa was a deeply cynical man whose opinion of humankind was painfully low. With no attempt to hide his disappointment and bitterness, my grandpa claimed that what ailed the human animal was ignorance, willful ignorance, 14-carat greed and a fear of death, monsters and ghosts.
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