Science, mathematics, culture, history all fascinated me. I was a voracious reader, and certainly read far beyond what you’d expect a preadolescent to be interested in. We were encouraged to be interested in anything and everything, to write and create and play. As they had a love of learning, so did we kids dinner was always being interrupted by a run to the bookshelf to look something up in the encyclopedia, or find some city in the atlas, and conversations were often derailed by tangential explorations or debates about the second or third level meanings of a word or turn of phrase. They balanced good discipline with a healthy let-the-kids-be-kids freedom, and always wanted us to do well and excel. I have never once doubted that my parents (or grandparents or my few aunts and uncles) loved me. My folks have always been loving and supportive, even when I expected otherwise. I was lucky, being born into a close, tight-knit family, the eldest of three. It was an idyllic place to be a kid, as I would only realize years later. The house I grew up in was a Victorian shingle-style “summer cottage” on the ocean from my bedroom window I could see two lighthouses, Nubble and Boon Island. ![]() ![]() I grew up in Cape Neddick, a small town on the coast of Maine.
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