Once upon a time...

"Once upon a time..." All the best stories start that way. So many tales from my carefree youth started that way so why shouldn't my own story embrace that timeless opener?

April in 1969... I have no freakin' idea what it was like. For the better part of the month I was stuck in a womb. Well given my situation that's really where I belonged. But as May approached I felt that it was time for a change, I felt that it was time to enter the world. Clearly I had no idea what I was doing and this was a trend that would continue throughout my life.

It was a different time in 69 (gee, that has a nice cadence to it :-D). Yup 1969 was home to the summer of love. No idea what that was about but from what I hear this year was a turning point in North American culture. Rock and Roll had firmly taken root and was blossoming thanks to the massive collective mind expansion of so many artists who indulged in mind altering substances. Their altered states gave the sober masses a different perspective of the world and regardless of their opinion about the state of the Rock and Roll culture, having an opinion at all contributed to the revolution. In short it was brilliant!

But, like I said, I missed out on all of that because I was just a baby. No for me the memories start in the 70's. I still remember black and white TV shows, I remember playing with my plastic cowboys and was slowly making the transition to a new set of heroes: astronauts. We had 2 channels on our TV so I spent a lot of time cultivating my imagination. Video games and the Internet were not even on the radar for me so I amused myself with stories that came from my own brain... like most other kids my age I guess.

I recall talking a lot and I had a natural comedic timing even at 5 years old. I spent many days at my grandpa and grandma's house while my mom and dad were working. I would sit at the kitchen table drawing or playing with clay and yammering on about anything that popped into my head barely stopping to take a breath. My grandma looked at me one day and said, "You sure talk a lot." Without missing a beat I replied, "Yeah, but I'm so good at it." Even today, I tend to talk a lot. My claim to fame among my circle of friends is that I seem to enjoy talking to strangers. It's not abnormal for me to go off on my own in crowded bar and strike up a conversation with some random person.

The truth is, I give off some kind of vibe that I don't understand and people tend to want to talk to me. I have no idea why but they seem to single me out and freely spew their life story out as soon as I acknowledge them. I don't discourage people talking to me. I suppose I don't see the harm in it. In fact, some people have interesting things to say and I find it interesting to see how different people choose to interact. I could probably write a book about human interaction simply based on my personal experience... but I won't. That would take the fun out of it.

I think that I gained a lot from being open to people. Sure I've run into a lot of very strange people and some that were just a little scary but the brief interactions I've had with people have opened my mind to so many different perspectives and being open to new ideas is a big part of being me.