ABSTRACT
Men are made, not born. At any given decade in a man’s life-whether in his teens, twenties, thirties, forties, fifties, or on up-he
can look back and take stock of how effectively he has been trained so far to love manhood. This training has been etched as if first in sand, where errant tides may yet erase it, then later in mud, where it may be baked in the heat of sonship, then much later as if in the fossilized remains of what was once his human potential, now hardened to stone. How old he is, how long this training has gone on, how traumatic it was, how well the training got attached to his body and brain-all these factors together and separately determine the extent to which his learned love of manhood has eclipsed his desire to love justice.
