Let us tell you a story.

But in order to tell it, we need to start at the end.

It's 1973, and a 55-year-old man relaxes in his living room after a day of honest work.

Mocking goats, growing algae, meditating, and maintaining his ecologically correct home

off the great imbucolic coal-pepper Virginia.

He takes a sip of hard-earned whiskey on the rocks, as he watches TV and catches up on

the news.

His wife Margaret calls to him from the kitchen, gently urging him, Sidney darling, dinner

will be ready in five minutes.

Basically letting him know to not get too comfortable in the couch.

Quiet, affable, Sidney darling, chuckles.

This is exactly the life he wanted out of retirement.

He and his wife Margaret have plans to tour Australia, Africa, India, and even have discussed

the notion of running a leprechauny there to help those in such desperate need.

Then he hears something troubling on the news.

Something that makes old Sidney drop his whiskey glass in the carpet.

Richard Helms, director of the CIA, has been fired by President Nixon on apparent attempt

to cray favor with political allies in the public amid fallout of the Watergate scandal.

This is not good news for Sidney.

But Coleman measured as he always is, Sidney excuses himself from dinner, citing an urgent

but minor work emergency, even though he's retired, he still cares very much about his

former career and his colleagues, and he gets in his car, and he drives.

...