How to be your own best think tank.

For a long time, I didn't consider myself creative. The very term intimidated me.

I'm a traditional guy at heart, a little staid and stuffy. I don't bungee-jump or tie-dye. I prefer Bach to rock, and G.F. Handel to M.C. Hammer. I enjoy the Doxology on the Lord's Day, and we still have Sunday night services.

But I wasn't always that way.

As a child, my imagination resembled a kitten in a room of wind-up toys. I chased every idea, scratched every itch, and pounced on every adventure. My second-hand bicycle became alternately a helicopter and a powerboat. I unraveled mysteries and swept starlets off their feet. I composed poems and plays.

When I lurched into adolescence, my imagination followed like a shadow. It questioned boring traditions, dreaming of better ways and better days. It wondered why no one had ever done a thousand do-able things. I was an impressionable teen when Bobby Kennedy campaigned for the presidency with his passionate claim, "Some men ...