I remember spending countless hours in my backyard as a young boy, imagining myself as a brave knight conquering foes, rescuing damsels in distress, and saving the day. A stick I had carved with my pocketknife served as my sword and my gray sweatshirt with the hood pulled up was my armor. And while I’m sure it was a funny sight to behold — a nine-year-old swinging a stick wildly through the air —...
