Childhood, it would seem, is different than it used to be. I know, I know, this conclusion doesn’t involve incredibly perceptive powers of parental observation; it simply requires contact with modern kids and an exceptionally long memory that reaches back to your own childhood.
It's almost like the death of an old friend. Unless you don't like the Columbia River Crossing project, in which case it's like the death of that annoying neighbor who kept disabled cars in his front yard, had a gun range in the back, and liked to loudly share his love of Nickelback with the entire neighborhood.
There ought to be a name for it. There ought to be a descriptive term for that time in life when your age and your experience and your accomplishments deliver you to the intersection where Curmudgeon Street collides with Elder Statesman Avenue.
As any number of inspirational quotes reminds us, you must dream big in order to achieve great things. Or, as author Israelmore Ayivor puts it, "Never leave the egg in you not laid," which probably lands somewhere between inspirational and bizarre.
The reality of change is that it never is as wonderful nor as dreadful as advertised. Never, unless we're talking about when you finally decided to shave your balding head (wonderful), or when you got that ridiculous perm in high school (dreadful).
The super rich, it would seem, are different from you and me. It's not just the yachts, or the private planes, or the villas in Monaco. It's just that, well, there's something different in their makeup and their demeanor and their way of thinking. Not better, mind you, but different.