As a youth, I had regarded the loss of my parents as the central tragedy of my life. But as I grew older, I began to see that I had certain advantages over my friends, who had no choice except to model themselves after the parents they had. For a few that worked out, but for most it didn’t, and many had to rebel before they could discover who they were. But I had no such impediment in my way. I could choose my models wherever I found them, and I found them everywhere. I didn’t have to limit myself to one father and one mother; I could pick and reject as many as I wanted as I went along—and
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