It is curious how one of the little “typo” slips I made in a chat entry could step me back through time to relive and feel the nauseating angst, fear and trembling of an 8 year old boy who lied to his parents for the first time. That is a piece of emotional guilt baggage I had been carrying around for 53 years. The details of the lie aren’t important, what is important that I had not forgiven myself for this perceived sin. At that age perceptions of the world were very much black and white in terms...