It was January 6, 1980. I was at my dad’s apartment running around and of course talking about everything under the run. I was seven years old. Life was just beginning for me.
I had my coloring books, my Star Wars and Batman action toys. I was pretty much set. But, like now, it was hard for me to sit still. My dad was a very patient man. He pretty much let me be me, except for when I was talking too loud. He would just reach over by neck and pretend he was turning the volume down, indicating to me that I needed to be quiet.