When you start off in life you are a lump of flesh with small, jerky movements and no muscle tone. Your mother wraps you up and shows you off. I’ve seen a few pictures of me as a baby and young kid. I was horribly crosseyed and all I remember from kindergarten to 3rd grade of school are a few scattered instances where I was beat up, or was crying. Then I had eye surgery and from then on my memory cleared right up. My eye began turning outward at about fourth grade, however my Doctor had gotten into a car wreck, and he was driving a Volkswagen “bug”, the wreck was severe, breaking the doctors spine and making him a paraplegic and he commited suicide. All that in the two year span between my first surgery and the need for a second. School was never my forte. I was not popular, I had no depth perception so sports were a joke. No one taught me sports, I never understood the concept of baseball, the strategy of football or basketball. No depth perception meant I was picked last for any team, and as I aged I began to take photos, always an observer. I was good at photography, worked it all through high school and after. I always had my darkroom and several cameras. Digital and the cost of silver doomed photography as I knew it. Now my things are obsolete antiques. I have a lot of experience in the darkroom, however now that process has been completely replaced. My experience means little, and with digital, my lack of experience tells volumes. I write, and I read. Sometimes they go hand in hand. Sure, I can spell. I have a dictionary and auto correct. Sometimes I make up a word, but usually it’s all good to go with what I know. My vocabulary is more than sufficient. I can turn a phrase, drive home a pun or simply eloquently state my case. Words have saved me, and enriched my very being. I have been paid to write, for years. As a private Investigator I was paid to write reports. Finally, a skill still of value. A skill that not only I am good at, but something that has made other people happy. Such a skill that many other people are envious of. Being envied is not all it was cracked up to be, to me. Being envied simply means others wish they could do something like you do. That is not shiney, but it will do, until my book is published.