While I was cropping, aligning and color-correcting some old pictures of my sister and myself for this year’s Mother’s Day, I ran across the picture to the right. It’s me in sixth grade in Tennessee during the fleeting two month period an Optometrist convinced my folks I needed to wear glasses.
But the cool part is that my folks caught me writing some early story or other on the living room floor in front of my sister’s cello. I used to write ALL the time during certain stages of my childhood, writing on the desk my father made for me by converting our living room closet into a space that opened into my bedroom. So many hours. I think about how television, computers and phones are such a huge part of my boys’ lives and it makes me want to shoot our TVs.
I mean, what really differentiates people if they all have exactly the same experience?
Seeing this picture also got me thinking about how I had written my first “book” when I was four. It was a single sheet of paper folded in half four times, giving me 32 pages. I recall being as excited about creating the book as I was about the story, which speaks to my grown up split between graphic/web design and writing.
I’m sure I’ve blogged about that book before. Search something like “The Last Little Buffalo” if you want to read more about it.
How much would I give to know what I was writing when this picture was taken.