In 1961 I graduated from high school and left home to make my own way through the world. I learned right away that I was not especially good at anything. The world was full of people who could run faster, jump higher, shoot straighter, and beat the crap out of me; full of people who were smarter, could speak several languages, could repair an automobile, an air conditioner, or a computer, could easily learn things, such as advanced math, that I could hardly learn at all, could play musical instruments, sing like birds, memorize complex scripts and act on a stage without fear; full of people who were witty and quick and funny; full of people who could dance and actually enjoy themselves at parties. This kind of education never ended for me; hardly a day passes that I do not discover still one more thing that I cannot do. However, even though I am a man of no talents, limited knowledge, and a legion of personal shortcomings, there is one thing of which I cannot be justly accused, namely, suffering from delusions of competence.