After too many years of finding former friends on Facebook and discovering that they’d become wingnut Trumper scumbags, I mostly avoid looking up anyone I’m not already acquainted with. But I do know that one mildly religious friend went crazy-religious after college, another became the kind of person who’d say he’d want his kids to be shot if they talked back to police, and another is apparently the co-leader of a cult.
On a more positive note, despite what the author may believe, “Eight Years Old and Full of Beans” is a fantastic title for a memoir.
