Some of life’s turning points are obvious. Others come as a surprise, like being hit from behind by a truck. I had an obvious one last week. I became a coot. I applied for early retirement on Social Security. That means I have to buy a beige cardigan and wear it with the buttons mismatched. I have to belt my pants ten inches above my belly button. I’ll start losing hair from my head, which will reappear in my nose and ears. I’m officially an old coot. But that’s not what I came to talk about. I came to talk...