First Memories

Three memories light the tunnel to my earliest awareness: The day I realized I could "make pictures" in my head, and thus became aware of the power of intellect, the day my cousin was committed, and a frightening fall my mother took when I was five that paved the way for my emotional life.

Intellect, I now realize, was to become the most treasured thing in my life, not as a means necessarily of superiority, or distance, but a thing clung to when all else faded, when all else slipped away or threatened to. It was my anchor, my identity, the thing that helped me navigate the complexities of an unstable childhood, and reach out for a world of wonders beyond it.

The day my cousin was committed, voluntarily, yet permanently, was a Thanksgiving Day when I was about six years old. The "hush, hush" and quick escort out for a walk with my father didn't achieve the distraction my family hoped it would. I knew what was going on. Now I am her legal guardian, and at the fringes of my relationship with her is always the refrain, "There, but for the grace of God, go I".

When I was five, my mother tripped and fell flat on her face in the vestibule to our apartment building. No one knew yet that she had muscular dystrophy, nor had they even quite identified medically the type she had. My child's tears of fear at seeing her fall were met with, "Why are YOU crying?? I'm the one who fell!!". This simple statement was to color my world for more years than I would care to admit, but have had to to unravel the picture of my past.

The Crossroads is the Road

At some moment in my life, I came upon a convergance of science, spirit, and history, never to be the same again. Never to look back. I strive to document the sorrows and joys, blunders and discoveries, gains and losses and even now, the unfolding story of these forces in my life. Thank you for participating.