I wanted to be something else but I didn’t know what. There was no clear-cut dream. I thought I’d like to have a job, a decent job in an office. I’d like to be in an office sitting behind a desk, pushing papers around, making little decisions about pushing papers, get out at 5:00 o’clock, meet this gorgeous girl and we’d probably get married and have two-and-a-half kids and live out in Long Island or someplace like that, and I’d go to mass every Sunday morning, be nice and warm and clean, and I’d be accepted, and I’d lose my Irish accent, and I’d sound like James Cagney. I didn’t know what to do. I read a lot. I discovered the 42nd Street Library. That’s what I did. I read and read and read voraciously and widely. Then I was liberated from this menial job I had in a hotel. I was the man with the dust pan and the broom in the lobby. I was liberated by the Chinese, who attacked Korea, and America drafted me and sent me to Germany for two years. I don’t know what I would have done if the Chinese hadn’t attacked Korea. I’m a victim of history in Ireland and I’m a beneficiary of history in America.