A single instant can change your life. On the night of April 1, 1960, my mother was reading in bed when a cerebral aneurysm ended hers and sent mine careening off on a radically altered trajectory. She was 42. I was six. Thus began the bizarre amalgam of abuse, neglect, and unsupervised international travel that was my personal wild ride through the sixties.
If you haven't yet read Riding the Cyclone, here are a few samples.
Writing this memoir changed my life in ways I never could have foreseen. The blog contains further developments, a few where-are-they-nows, a bit of background on some of the places mentioned, and a few reflections on the sibling processes of writing and remembering.
And here, in color, are the illustrations from the book and some extras.