I was born in 1975 on a sunny day in Astoria Oregon. Despite my near death experience at birth, my Mom thought I was perfect. My Dad, a physician, knew better. These assessments continue today.
Within days of my recovery, my adventures began. Our small family moved to the Olympic Peninsula to live on the Quinault Indian Reservation as Dad served in the Indian Health Service. Most of my memories from those very early years revolve around an ancient Indian woman known as Gram Black, eating live clams on cold foggy beaches, and our performing circus poodle.
From there, our family moved to Boise, Idaho, where my parents got me a Golden Retriever who taught me the joy of peeing outside. It was also during this time that my sister, born in Columbia, S.A., was adopted into our family. I give her credit for teaching me patience and proper grooming.
At the age of four I became the seventh generation on my mother's side to live in "the town that friendliness built" and the home of the world's largest strawberry shortcake, Lebanon, Oregon. Over the years, my family created an odd animal sanctuary and hobby farm with a revolving cast of colorful creatures to ride, observe, and endlessly scoop up after. My bedroom was in the tack room, which I shared with my youngest sister's goat. To this day, there is no love lost between me and the nasty rooster who cock-a-doodled any old time.
Very early my parents realized that I had dyslexia and that I saw things differently from most. School was difficult, but in hindsight this was one of many blessings that have helped to shape my artful existence. I was lucky to grow up surrounded by beautiful creeks and evergreen wilderness and within a family that loved to travel, encouraged curiosity, and following one's heart. And my heart has always told me to create.
