A lucky gift for reading led to an early addiction to stories, fictional and real, current and past, world, and family.
When I was twelve I became a mysteries aficionado. I credit Dame Agatha with forming some parts of my social education that weren’t readily available in working class Brooklyn. I read fiction and memoirs as well, the occasional biography and history. Photography is a longtime activity – my FLICKR page.
Another thing that make life rich — seeing ballet has been a joy since early childhood. At my first, in my bright six-year-old voice, I informed my father – and everyone else at the theater – that the men weren’t wearing pants! Nowadays they even wear tutus (Brava the Trocs!)
Theater and movies, too.
Basically, if it helps me escape the real daily world, and isn’t illegal or unhealthy, my Self and I enjoy it.
Given my family’s humble background, and foreground, I was surprised when a friend at work and the increasing deaths of aging family members nudged an interest in family history. For about a decade it became a passion and is still of interest – once you’ve stunned yourself and everyone else by reconnecting family branches separated since 1921 by revolutions, wars, genocide, dictatorships, and oceans, you feel it was worth it – all those years of hours at libraries, meetings, presentations, database sites, and your own desk (sometimes 25 or 30 hours a week).
As for the big wide world of social and political issues, I’m an avowed humanitarian. It’s a potentially lovable species with a lot of promise.