My son Peter is a thirty-something great. He has a bio the length of your arm, including numerous publications and maybe a speaking engagement or two.
He’s well known in his professional circle and perhaps by the time he’s our age, could be one of those craggy savants with multiple addresses.
He already lives on Cape Cod, so all and he and his wife have to do is acquire a second residence somewhere else. That’s not the usual order of things, but it could work, and the way the prices are around here, they’ve already passed the toughest hurdle.
I am not great, although I have certainly aspired to greatness along the way, believing that all things were possible with pluck and work. Hahaha.
If you’re a woman, greatness requires that you be photogenic. You can be a loathesome human being in every other respect, but you must take a good picture.
It also helps to be able to wear clothes well, to have good manners, to have learned not to get drunk at professional or social functions, and to shake hands firmly.
If your field is financial services, competence is a requirement. But honestly, I can’t think of any other profession, including medicine, where competence trumps looks when it comes to hiring women.
For that to change, we’ll need a few good deaths. Like, every male over 40. Lest that seem harsh, consider, for example, how much better off we’d all be if the US Senate and most of the House traded places with all those kids in Iraq and Afghanistan.