My travels started in Brownville NY, where I lived till I was 10 years old. As I write this more of my memories of my childhood come back. I remember playing in the sandbox in our backyard, the smell of the lilacs, which bloomed out side our back door. Much of my childhood was spent running around playing sword and sorcery with my friends. This activity would involve us cutting down some straight branches, stripping the bark off of them and wrapping the hilt with black tape. Walla! instant sword! I am not sure where our fascination with this kind of activity came from. I suppose it must have been my brother. Most of his friends were interested in sports.. but he has always had a fantastic imagination!

Most of these adventures would take place behind the Brownville Mansion. The Mansion was a massive 3 story granite building located in the center of town where the local kids would got to play. The front 'yard' was huge and suited us just fine when we wanted to build mazes out of fallen leaves or "Rover, Rover" if that is what the game was called. In the summer the mansion would also house the communitity kid's center - where they would teach crafts and organize field trips to the beach, zoo and such. The mansion was also the site of evening dances and and contests for the best Holloween costumes. Although this sounds like a huge treasure in itself - there is more. Behind the mansion there was a massive field where we could play soccer, fly kites and play tag in the summer. In the winter the fire dpt would spray it down with water and it was a skating rink. On the left hand side of the mansion there was a hill which was often the site of games of king of the hill and sliding in the winter. I have many memories of this hill- sliding on plastic sleds, being run over my a boy on a ten-speed. Whoah! what a memory - my arm was sprained and I guess since I still remember it - it must have been rather trumatic. Around the back to the side was a large metal swingset and spinny thing (I don't remember the name). Many hours were spent on the swing sets just enjoying life. Beyond the field was a man made canel type thing which we just called the creek. It was maybe 6 or 7 feet deep (although it was usually dry) and 10 or so feet wide. It was made of the same grey granite as the mansion but with wide gaps between the blocks which made it much easier to climb down. There were big slabs of rock to sit and hide behind and lots of little stands of saplings. This was creek was often the site of our swashbuckling adventures.i

When we were not roaming around the creek beds in Brownville my family was camping. Camping was a very involved event for us which would start with the packing of the trailer. The trailer was not beautiful by any means, it was white with a yellow stripe down the side, but it was the central location for all our trips. When my brother, sister and myself were younger we all slept inside, although when we got older my brother and sister would often sleep out in a tent.

The packing of the trailer was a ritual in itself - a process which included all of the children selecting the clothes they would bring, having them washed and putting them into our designated shelf near the entrance to the trailer. I was assigned the lowest shelf - being the youngest. Grocery shopping for the trip was my mother and father's chore and they would return with a wealth of goodies for the trip. We would have those little boxes of cereal(the kind that you cut open and pour the milk in), eggs and bacon, corn on the cob and of course, s'mores! Once all of the packing was done we would all pile into the van and drive up to Higley Flow State Park. "Camping" there was not really roughing it..they had electricity and bathrooms. It was a great way to spend a few weeks in the summer and it also allowed us to see the rest of my family. Both of my grandfathers and one of my Aunts lived within half an hour of the campgrounds and they would come up and spend the day with us. I could say more about these camping trips but I have bored you enough already.

When I was ten my father was transferred from the Watertown Niagara Mohawk to the one in Potsdam. This news was received with mixed feelings. I was sure it was going to be the end of the world, but my mother, whose family was all in Potsdam, was never happier. Thinking about the move was pretty traumatic for me, Brownville was all I ever known and I could not imagine my life anywhere else. Although the move to Potsdam would be one of the best things that could have ever happened to me.. the concept of change was utterly terrifying.

After the Move! (School)

When we moved to Potsdam I started sixth grade in the lowest academic group and once a day I would go to a "special" class because I "was/am" dyslexic. The classes worked on compensating for the dyslexia and making up for the lack of education I had in my previous school. My teacher in this special class had no doubt the kids she taught could do anything and instilled that belief in us. Her persistence paid off and at the end of sixth grade I was moved up to the next academic group. Although I did not realize it at the time this "movement" through the academic levels caused me not to be accepted into either of these social groups. It seems that the people I left figured I was "too good" for them now and the class that I moved into, who still might have accepted me, I was too shy and did not have enough money to socialize with. This left me in the unique position to gathering people around me who were in similar positions - although often through different means. My friends were the brilliant and artistic crowd who are often shunned for their talents. This group grew into the "artsy, cool" clique in high school, although at the time we were just considered geeks.