Though I'm nearing old age, my life is still a work in progress. So are the stories I want to share. Check back here for new entries to my memoirs. If you don't want to miss any, join my reader list by signing up below. I promise not to use your email address for any other purpose.
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The events portrayed here are honestly written as I remember them, so may not be entirely, factually, accurate. Just so you know.
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.
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.