I’ve been pondering past decisions I’ve made in this life of mine – decisions of enormous impact, decisions that created my future, essentially out of the blue. Forty-nine years ago, for instance, I moved from rural, southwest Michigan to . . . ta da . . . Chicago. I’d been a back-to-the-lander for the previous four years, having transformed with many of my fellow boomers from antiwar activist and hippie to planet-saving environmentalist. I was also married, but that marriage – numero uno – fell apart and I found myself, in my late 20s, with my entire future in my hands. I loved gardening. I’d been raising barred-rock chickens. Every spring we made maple syrup. On and on. Love the planet, man.