Time To Live, Time To Die, Time To Grow

I remember the last time I saw the late writer Ed Bryant. It was at a convention, maybe a Westercon, and I came to his room first thing in the morning, for some purpose I do not recall. His room was, (as was often the case) filled with giggling girl. He was somewhat groggy (the old dog!) and I was my usual perky self. He glared at me and said that I was “obnoxiously exuberant”, a phrase I treasure and actually had printed on a t-shirt.

I was recently mock-complaining about someone I’ve encountered who is perky enough to make me feel like a slug. Over the last…