At about 5 yrs. old I was scratched by a bear at the Catskill Gamefarm. This was the kickoff of what was to become a slapstick life full of funny and not so hilarious adventures. I had the skin shredding coming to me as I was holding a vanilla ice cream cone, my arm propped on the edge of the bear pit. Mom and Dad didn't sue...never crossed their minds. Around about the same time, my German grandmother was putting me to bed by telling me Grimm's fairy tales, the real ones. " und then the sisters lopped off their pinky toes with a razor blade, but still the slipper would not fit." This might have been the time I started to enjoy beer. This exposure to the dangerous and absurd prepared me for 7th grade biology during which my classmates and I stabbed one another's fingers, no gloves or gauze, to draw blood in order to determine our bloodtypes. I am tough and take responsibility for my own actions. Two qualities that I look for in others.
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