Like most ten-year-old boys in Boston when ice hockey great Bobby Orr was in his prime, I played hockey and dreamed of being a Bruin one day. I was one of two goalies and my goal-tending partner was this great kid named Mark. Because it’s what kids do, I got caught up in making fun of him with a bunch of the other players one day, behind his back. He heard about it and confronted me the next day. He said his feelings were hurt, and asked why I did it. A good question. And wise beyond the years of the average ten-year-old to bring the issue to the surface.