Square One. The Bronx, early sixties.
Childhood memories. Moving vans. Boxes. Packing and unpacking. I thought it was normal to start each school year someplace else, to leave in the middle before the picture order came in. I thought that's what everybody did. The consolation? One playground is as good as another. They all blend together after a while anyway.
Teens. Redondo Beach, late seventies. Don't ask about senior year—there wasn't one.
Lost Decade I. My twenties—I spent them on loading docks and in print shops, hoofing about Chicago, hawking typesetting and graphic design, pursuing my share of dreams that didn't pan out.
Lost Decade II. My thirties—a couple of semesters at the City Colleges of Chicago, a boat load of CLEP credit, and a non-traditional Bachelor's got me into medical school in the Caribbean. A couple of passed board exams got me a residency in New York City.
Lost Decade III. Moving to the heartland, I discovered that there's not much difference between housing projects on 10th Street and Avenue D and single wide trailers off a County Road leading nowhere. Humiliation. Degradation. Powerlessness. They feel the same everywhere and lead to the same conclusions, the same results. I wanted to help. I wanted to do something. I wanted to make a difference. I didn't want to be a drug dealer with a prescription pad.
I should have gone to film school. I'd like to go to seminary. I'm running out of time. In five decades, I've lived lots of places, seen lots of things, and met lots of people, all of which inform my observations and perspective. My short story “Angel’s Mercy” placed third in a writing contest and has appeared in an anthology. My short experimental video “Darkness, Silence, Distance” was featured in a program of shorts at the South by Southwest festival under the auspices of the Austin School of Film, Spring 2018.