My story: Part 1--How I came into the world

There have been a number of circumstances that lead me to tell a little bit of my life story in the next week on these pages.

I will try and intersperse other "filler" type stuff on here as well, but this will be my primary focus on "Friar Tuck's" for the next week or so.....

Anywhoo....here it goes.

How I came into the World

My parents met in Salem, Oregon in the early 70's. My mother, after working in a home for mentally handicapped folks, took on a job as an administrative assistant for the government. My father at the time was just out of the military, had come back home, and was working as an investigator for the state. (He had been in intelligence in the millitary).

My mother, a tall bubbly bundle of sunshine, and my father, a big and tall man of mystery and armchair philospher, somehow got together. They were married in February 1973. My father was 27 and my mother was 23.

Six months later I was born in Roseburg, OR. My mother had inherited a house, and my father was tired of working in a job he hated, so they moved into the house. It was right near the land my mother's side of the family had homesteaded in when they came to America.

I was a sickly little guy. I shared a room with my Aunt Teresa, and was allergic to milk I guess. I was also a bundle of energy. I was walking at 7 months, but did not talk until I was close to two. I have been trying to catch up for lost time in the talking department ever since.

Fifteen months later my sister came along. Everybody thought she was adorable as well, which made me very jealous. So I would jump off mantles, couches and the like to make sure I got the proper amount of attention.

Of course, I don't remember any of this. It is all second hand information.

After a couple years (more or less) my parents sold the house they inherited and built a house on the Umpqua River. It was a dream home. A couple of acres, a large yard on the river. Dad was working as a carpenter. Mom was working as a real estate agent when she was not home taking care of us.

I remember being very happy there. My sister and I each had a room, but my sister's room was more of a retreat center for her from my antics. Most of the time though, when it came to time to sleep, my sister somehow ended up in my room with bunk beds. I think our parents may have worked to keep us in separate rooms for a while, but it did not work.

My first childhood memories take place here. My father taking me fishing. My sister and I thinking we were going to get rich stealing money from the penny jar at midnight, watching Grizzly Adams and football with dad in the living room and sharing his zebra-striped pillow on the floor.

I remember family boat rides and fishing on the river.

I was 4.