glad to join your site , i would like to share a little piece that i wrote about me.. thank you My first palpable memories are those of a pungent odor of marijuana and streams of Pink Floyd wafting through the air. I was a 70’s baby, it seemed to be a simpler time, and everyone looked as if they were enjoying themselves. But what would I know ? I was only an infant with a mild contact high and good taste in music. I was born and lived in a working class neighborhood in the old town of New London Connecticut. It was a genuinely interesting place, and home to some extremely talented writers, musicians and drug dealers. Interspersed amongst the masses of dockworkers, tradesmen and sailors were a fairly decent amount of financially challenged, but very creative addicts, who always managed to keep things exciting on the streets at night. I didn’t stay there very long, but it was the place I always came back to and called home time and again. I enjoy traveling, and I’m good at it. I have had a lot of practice over my 33 ½ year trip to date. Starting from New London to somewhere in Waterford, CT that I cant quite remember and on to Taftville, CT, another very interesting town that I called home for a while. It was there that I embarked upon my “illustrious” academic career, and started to form my first perceptions of how our human society operates. This is where my lifelong adventure began. One day while exploring a densely overgrown area of woods in my neighborhood, I spotted what I thought at the time to be part of the lost wreckage of Amelia Earhardt’s ill fated aircraft. I pondered the possibilities and thought to myself that she must have gone off course by thousands of miles to have ended up in the woods behind My school. Upon closer investigation I found that it was just a very old pile of what used to be a car, that someone graciously decided to leave behind my school’s baseball field for use as a “child-safe” playscape of some sort. I later realized that my overactive imagine in conjunction with the report that I had just written the week before on the mysterious and fascinating aviatrix had something to do with my hopeful delusion of being the one who would solve this long standing conundrum. This was an essential segment of my formative years and I have many memories of my life on merchants avenue. My school bore the moniker “Wequonnoc elementary” (many places had indian names in this area) If you think about it, a child just learning how to read and spell might very well be sent running home to his mother with feelings of literacy inadequacy at the mere sight of those large white letters sprawling across the front of a brickfaced and 50’s green paneled building.
