In 1972,
when I was ten years old, I decided to change the way I wrote the numerals 2
and 4, moving from the silly soft curves and curly cue fonts I’d been taught (or
had sloppily developed due to the distractions of fifth grade girls and snacks)
to the tougher and manlier straight lines-only style. It was a bold move for a ten-year-old, but
went unnoticed by all but me, and set the tone for the controlled rebellion
that would dictate the trajectory of my life (also unnoticed by all but me.)
