Memoirs

I always remember the opening line in the old Steve Martin movie, The Jerk (1979), where Steve says, “I was born a poor Black child.” In case you  don’t know Steve, he is not black. So, in addition to how cliche that  opening line was, it was laugh out loud funny at the time because of how  untrue it was. Also, it was 1979, I was 17, and everything Steve Martin  did was hysterical. But this isn’t about Steve Martin. It’s about me. Click here for more. 

Studies  trumpet the proven benefits of so-called forest therapy. The concept  seems so obvious to me that I can’t believe there had to be a study. I  undertook forest therapy long before it was trendy. For more, click here. 

Before I was 11 years old, my family moved from the high,  dry plains of western Nebraska down 3,000 feet to Omaha, the big  lowland city at the eastern end of the state, and back to western  Nebraska again. The Big Scary City series describes those early years in  Omaha.

• Part 1: Nebraska's Urban Jungle
• Part 2: Those Terrifying Burbs
• Part 3: Exposure to Culture

In  1972, no one thought to explain grief to children. No one told me that  the ache, slowly and gradually, eventually fades. I suffered alone with a  broken heart, even as others grieved silently around me. More here. 

My first was a little solid state Sony transistor. Portable  transistor radios were all the rage in the early 1970s. Unlike the  heavy, bulky appliances that sat on the kitchen table or served as a big  piece of furniture in previous decades, I could carry my transistor  radio anywhere. Click here for more of the history of radio. 

I relish the allure of the big screen. After standing in line, giving my  ticket to a uniformed usher guarding the entrance (or, lately, and  automated kiosk that reads the bar code on my iPhone), and perhaps  indulging in a box of popcorn, I sit down and look up, my consciousness  rising onto the great white canvas as it comes to life, becoming my  alternate reality. Click here for more stories of alternate reality through movies.

As far as I could tell, the only link to rest of the world was through my family’s 10 inch black and white television. Intrigued? Click here to read more.

Looking back, it was inevitable that I would land in Denver and stay for over 30 years and counting. Click here for the fascinating details.