Shapeless Hat and Lumber Jack sprang to the child’s mind whenever he was asked what he wanted to be when he grew up. Shapeless Hat was a friendly walking around the town man who smiled and wore one. He did nothing that could be described as his job — he just was there, walking around, and, on sunny days, on buses. He had no conversation with people so everyone knew him and liked him and called him happy old thing. He was who this child called Smaff wanted to be, and if not him, then Lumber Jack had big appeal. Though the task of chopping wood for the home front hearth bored him to fury, the squared off shoulders and hair everywhere body of Lumber Jack excited Smaff and made him want to be him. Lumber Jack lived in a thin book.

Growing up and dreaming of who to be was nice and made people smile, because they thought it sweet to have such daft desires and knew that when the time came, Smaff, like everyone else, would have to stop thinking in dreams of who he wanted to be and accept the flat fact that he already was he, and the only question really was what he was going to be able to do about that. I wonder what, I wonder who, I wonder when — yes, most of all when was what avid relatives, fond parents and jealous loving friends asked themselves and each other of him.