I remember sitting in a pickup truck next to my then-stepfather as we drove along a country road. I must have been seven or eight. He was telling me about how boys became stronger as they got older. I pondered this.
“The older you get, the stronger you are?” I asked excitedly. Being a child, I extrapolated only in straight lines. I thought about my grandfather, who already loomed toweringly large in my mind, and assessed that he must be one of the strongest men in the world, on account of his age.
My stepfather, not a man given to deep reflection, nevertheless paused and considered before answering.
“Up to a point,” he said, and went silent for a time.
I had no idea what he meant.