I’ve never been a fan of change, especially significant change. The first time I moved from one address to another~of the moves I can remember~was around my twelfth birthday, when we moved from Jackson Heights to Lindenhurst. That drove me nuts. It was an unavoidably necessary leap but I still plum stunk at it. I always tell people that that was the incident which forever left me wary of change. I can handle incremental change, the kind that happens in small degrees. That kind of change happens incessantly anyway. Any change, however, that can be referred to as a leap, gets me crazy. Ever since my earliest days I’ve always been so pathetically physically clumsy, weak and uncoordinated. I was the kind of kid whom no one else ever wanted on his team, in gym class or otherwise. Physical leaps are yet another kind I tend to shun. While I can understand that leaping into things can often be unavoidably necessary, I don’t leap well. I should rather saunter as much as possible.