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.

I lost my way that night — and it seems I never found my way back
When we don’t feel understood, we feel lonely even in a crowd
Modern life doesn’t have to be as complicated as we try to make it
Hug awakens realization of how much I’ve missed human touch
I wanted to be Capt. James Kirk; have I become Ignatius J. Reilly?
Fear blocks us from experiencing reality deeper than physical world
‘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