I’ve been told I’m an “average guy.” Let me be clear, it was meant as an insult. I should have been enraged; maybe the situation called for it. But instead, I felt something different—something sad. Yes, I am an average guy: the average between my best moments and my lowest points, the average between the instinctive passion of my 20s and the mature consideration of my 50s, the average between what I wish to be and what I...
