And with this initial test run of his Flyover app a success, he decides to leave the hallowed halls of Harvard and move on.To make sure he is able to walk away without leaving a trail, he seems to mindwipe the students he was chummy with last issue.They had other people’s parents with an eye on them wherever they roamed, and teachers who knew them by name and personality. True revolution wouldn’t hit until any one of them left the Island to face the real world.The first clue to these reunion kids’ (now all in their late 60s) innocent past was that a whole bunch of them actually wanted to be there this recent night. Like Island generations before and since, they’re attached to their little rock in a way that either keeps them home or, if they wander the world for a spell, draws them back to stay, or at the very least, crooks a finger at them for regular visits.I took a quick mental selfie of myself in the summer of ’66 on Malibu Beach with my bestie Cindy Gruber, she with blond hair and blue eyes, I with dyed raven black hair, brown eyes, and fake eyelashes, but other than that we looked identical.We spent our entire summer of ’66 bikinied and barefoot, dating a different surfer dude every night but caring for none of them (they weren’t deep enough; they liked the Beach Boys more than the Mamas and the Papas), scoring grass whenever we wanted it, and driving over the canyon with our windows down and the Rolling Stones blasting on the radio: “Paint it! ”OK, I realized the Vineyard class of ’66 would be ever-so-slightly culturally “delayed.” They were lucky.
I was all over it: ’66, at Chatsworth High in Southern California’s San Fernando Valley (aka “The Valley”), was my own long-ago class!
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The important thing is that you intentionally carve out time, every month to track your progress and keep yourself accountable as you follow the Barefoot Steps.
Truth is, most people totally overestimate what they can achieve in one year, but totally underestimate what they can do in six years.