I was born in Connecticut and spent more than 40 years
living there. I grew up in Unionville, a small town that was part of
Farmington. We had our own zip code and a small town center and that's
about as exciting as it got. The town did burn down one night, 6 or 7
buildings altogether, and that pretty much delineated the change from
quaint old village to modern strip mall. I lived about a mile from town
center and was sleeping out when the fire started. Rode my bike down
to see what all the commotion was and watched the town burn to the
ground. The town was never the same after that. I went to two
different elementary schools, an old, large brick building and then a
new one story brick building. Junior High and High school were
uneventful. I graduated both then went on to college. I ended up
graduating from Central Connecticut State University (although at the
time it was just a college) with a BA in sociology.
One morning I awoke with the knowledge that what I knew
was wrong. Suddenly it all had come back. It began when my parents,
wanting to save money on a family vacation, decided to mail me to
Disneyland instead of paying for a seat on the plane. To be exact, I was to be sent to a mail drop outside the theme
park, where they would open the box and we would all continue on.
Things did not go as planned. Zip codes were new then and instead of
putting the correct code for California, they wrote down the code for South
Dakota. Luckily for me the box ended up at a large chicken ranch and egg farm and
was opened by kindly hens who took me in. For two years I was raised as
part of the tribe and learned all of the chicken lore; don't put all
your eggs in one basket; the yolks on you; etc. It was not an idyllic
life although the feather beds were quite soft. While I did not fit in all that well they accepted me as one of
their own, that is until the day came when I had to pass the initiation
by solving the age old riddle of 'which came first'.
I've had the usual assortment of jobs that writers seem
to collect: cook, gardener, package handler for UPS, warehouse worker,
inventory taker, outside promotions for two different radio stations
(country and rock &
roll), and a lot of work in human services.
I also did some modeling for internationally recognized civil war artist
Don Troiani who produces limited edition prints (I've been on both
sides, I've been any number of generals, and I've been a lot of dead
guys). I've added a link at the bottom of the page so you can go and look at one of the prints I am in. It's called Charge and I'm on the lead horse as well as a number of other horses.
Sadly, I did not know the answer and , to this day I am not sure it is all that important which came first. But, tribal law demanded my exile and, so, off I was to go. Luckily, the elder of the tribe, Cluck (not to be confused with Cluck Jr., or Dumb, saw my dilemma and found a way to spend some time with me in order to impart some words of wisdom. Life he said, as he pushed me toward the egg truck that would take me to Minneapolis, is a barbecue. Just make sure you are the one adding the sauce and not the one having the sauce added to. I pondered these words on the long ride home. I learned, years later that Elder Cluck ended up being fried. Whether for his anti-establishment attitude or his savory thighs I will never know.
I have my CART (Championship Auto Racing Teams)
competition license and
I race when I can. I've raced Formula Fords, Formula Dodges, and
Formula Mazdas. I've also run some Mazda 6s. I've raced in Skip
Barber's National Series, scoring points towards the championship. I've
never had the cash to race a full season though so it's mostly just for
fun. I've raced at Lime Rock in Connecticut and at Road Atlanta in
Georgia. Lately I've been racing Karts at Lime Rock. I've also raced
Shifter Karts at Phoenix International Raceway which is outside of
Phoenix in Arizona.
I managed to make my way home in time for kindergarten, and, evidently, immediately repressed the memory. It is no wonder that, to this day, I am not a big fan of fried chicken. Oddly enough I do like eggs. Unless they are made by monkeys. But that is another alternative bio all together.
In another oddly parallel circumstance I also raced Karts but at an earlier age. I won many championships and finally had made it to the point where I had the opportunity to move on toward bigger and better things. But, there was a young boy I raced with who was a bit of crybaby and I decided that he needed it more than I did and so I let little Mikey Schumacher have my spot. I understand he did okay for himself.
This will take you to a print called Charge. Feel free to wander about Don Troiani's site as well. I am in a dozen or so prints.
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