We imagine that we're in control of things, but we never see our puppet strings.

You're listening to Spooked. Stay 2. Recently, sitting in the park, my best friend, she said, do you remember that character

you invented Roosevelt Franklin or something?

And it's vaguely familiar.

It's way back in the day before kids, before responsibilities, footloose, fancy, free.

I wrote this character description about something very different for myself.

The Adventures of Roosevelt Franklin, a militant black vegan.

I'm thinking that is a blast from the past. Haven't thought about him for a couple decades.

Yeah?

Well guess what?

Look over there.

I glance over and I see my boy, my child.

That's Roosevelt.

And it hits me like a bolt of lightning from the clear blue sky.

No way.

No way.

No way.

My son, who at the tender age of 10, 11 years old,

one day learned what meat production really was.

And he decided right then and right there, he would never

have anything to do with it ever again. He's been trying to convince me to become a vegan every

day since. And now he's a full-on teenager. No way. I run back home, scramble through old

...