On the subject of James Cremer Landis, I am as expert as anyone could hope to be (in relative terms, I'm still a novice).
Know thyself is the relevant quote here, but you can see how many people had something to say about that bit of wisdom with a bit of quick Googling. I probably agree with most of them. After all, it's hard for a quote to become famous if it doesn't have a certain resonance with people.
In keeping with the title of this section, I suppose we had better get things moving along in an orderly fashion. Argue all you want about the lack of order here; we all have our own sense of order. Don't fight it. Just accept that this is one more demonstration of identity (though I doubt you'll ever see this little biometric on your next credit card application). Sometimes procession gets confused with precession, but in this case first things have already come first. For the physicists, we're not talking about the gyroscopy of a dreidl, either. That might be a clever lead-in to a page on religion if I get desperate for words with this suffix, but I don't really think it belongs in this section.
If your sense of order centers on the chronological or geographical, you'll want to start earlier and farther northeast in a slightly larger town called Cleveland (insert identity theft flag here). Chances are, you remember just about as much about me in those early days as I do. If you stick to your rules of calendar and map, you'll have to go much farther southwest, too, before you can come back to the First in Flight in The Heart of it All. If you've ever been in a dust storm, seen a cactus, or watched tumbleweed navigate a suburbian curb, then you can remember all that I can about that little stretch of time in the great country of Texas. I could put up the pictures of my eating of sand or strawberries (with slightly less drool), but it might just as well be you in that picture.
Since we've bent to the will of the timekeeper and the cartographer, I don't see the harm in just a little more indulgence. Pin up your map of the Greater Dayton Area (if there were caps on the 'D' and 'A', that 'G' would have them, too) and stick a couple of markers through Huber Heights. While you're at it, mark two more in Oakwood, and one in Kettering for good measure. You've just marked off all of my parents' places of residence that show up on that map while they could still be called my legal guardians. In case it isn't obvious, the words I've chosen here have been chosen very carefully. During that time you'd throw away about twelve calendars, if you didn't need to see the date in more than one place.
I spent one last summer in D-town under the threat of paying rent to sleep in my childhood bed before Sophomore year of college, and then I was essentially out on my own. Over the course of the next eight years, I lived in almost twenty different places. Ithaca, JC, Chi-town, Helsinki, Seattle, Irving, Oz, Clifton - all for at least a month, and sometimes more than one address (not to mention all the hotels all over the world, wherever the consulting life had lead). Mr. Cartographer was kept busy, and for the most part I felt every bit as jettisoned as the flotsam I must have resembled. Finally, though, I think I've found a home.
Now I think we can agree that Mr. Timekeeper and Mr. Cartographer never held previous jobs as Mr. Storyteller. If they did, they were probably fired and that's why they're now Mr. Timekeeper and Mr. Cartographer. But then, they can do a fine job of turning over a quarter-century of calendars into a page or two of bullet points. Certainly a great majority of Mr. Anyone's formative years are just about as interesting as those bullets, no matter how many hours you spent making them with Kai's Power Tools. Eat, sleep, and work don't generally keep food on Mr. Storyteller's table.
Getting hungry yet?