"Kind of," Eastwood tells
me. "There's a squirrel around here. I like to put peanuts out for him.
He's a nice guy. He comes right into the office sometimes. The other
day, I opened the door and he was clinging on to it."
Eastwood
is eighty-six now. But if you think he's devolved into that old man on
your block who walks around talking to squirrels, you're dead wrong.
Eastwood does not stop. Never has. Twenty years after most guys would be
in full-on coast mode, Eastwood is still vital and vibrant, still
pushing himself creatively. The guy is an inspiration, a reminder that
we should always be evolving.
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