When I wrote for and helped edit a left-wing newspaper back in the late sixties and early seventies I saw myself as America’s next E.B. Debs or, at the very least, the next Herbert Aptheker. Years later, when I was in graduate school in Flordia State's counselor education program, I was sure I was going to be the next Carl Rogers. A decade later, when I was in seminary, I saw myself as the next Billy Graham, but with strong Walter Rauschenbusch leanings. Now that I’m in the autumn (if not winter) of my years I find that what matters most is that I be remembered fondly by my grandchildren.