impossible for individuals. Depressing, eh? But - good news! I know it's not true. 

For years my son Matthew was a tea fanatic. He regularly pointed out that Bridget and I had totally misunderstood the successful preparation of this wonderful beverage. We became jitteringly nervous about preparing tea for him in case it fell short of his high standards - he being a sort of High Priest of the tea-worshipping fraternity. 

The rest of the fraternity, Matthew's friends, that is, were just as single-minded. They regarded the very existence of coffee (which we loved, but consumed in dark corners where our shameful apostasy was hidden) as a shocking heresy. They gathered like some loony sect in our kitchen, fussing and fiddling and muttering over their boiling and brewing and sugaring before bearing the sacred vessels on the sacred tray aloft to the High Priest's chaotic Holy of Holies upstairs. Sadly, the ensuing ceremony rarely concluded with ritual returning and cleansing of the sacred vessels. We sad, coffee-drinking acolytes fulfilled that humble role.

Matthew's obsession with tea was unabated as he left for University. It was a fixed point in our universe. It was reality. 

Then, arriving home during his third year, Matthew lightly declared, "Think I'll have a nice cup of coffee." 

"B-b-b-but, Matthew," stammered Bridget, "you don't drink coffee. You hate coffee! You drink tea."
Matthew stared at his mother as if she was mad, then, as he explored the long tunnel of his past, seeking some basis for what she'd said, his face cleared. 

"Ah, well, yes, I used to have the odd cup of tea, but I always drink coffee now - can't stand tea. It's so insipid, don't you think?" 

Silly, isn't it, but Matthew's switch from tea to coffee amazed me as much as anything I've ever seen. And to those of us who really want to change but have become resigned to the fact that we probably never will, it gives at least a little hope.