When I was a child, I was mesmerized by seeing my name on McElroy Motor Co. in downtown Birmingham. It was just a used car dealership, but it made me feel successful.
The company had moved from this location by the time I remember visiting, but I still remember wandering around the lot while my father visited his Uncle Emory — my grandfather’s brother — who owned the place. I remember standing in front of the main sign and seeing my name in huge letters and thinking that I would do far greater things one day — and that I would one day have my name on even bigger signs.
I don’t know exactly what I expected. I was probably 4 or 5 years old when I used to visit, but I know I was obsessed with the idea of success — the idea that I was going to achieve great things. There was something about this tiny bit of family success that made me feel as though anything was possible.
When I look back on that child, I can see why some people might have thought I was arrogant. I was unfailingly polite and charming to adults, but I always quietly believed I was the smartest person in every room. I never doubted that others would one day recognize my greatness — and I believed they would want to follow me.

Question the ‘experts’: They don’t know as much as they think
Ron Paul asks 31 tough questions that our politicians won’t answer
Unhappiness can’t hide forever when life has gone very wrong
It’s time to kick the arrogance of ‘American exceptionalism’ to curb
Throwaway culture can leave us looking for something that lasts
Surgery report: It went very well, but first time is one too many for me
‘This path leads to somewhere I think I can finally say, I’m home’
Economic Man needs no heart, because love and God are dead
Stop using children as pawns to promote adult political agendas