The earliest memory I have is being in my crib and hearing my dad stirring the coffee in the kitchen. We lived in an apartment building on east 14th in Brooklyn – second floor which no doubt was chosen because of the lower level due to my mothers fear that my brothers, my sister and I would pry open the windows and fall out or pull a superman attempt to fly. Talk about extreme fear factors.
So I remember the spoon hitting the sides of the coffee cup and then hitting the counter with an echo that spread across the apartment. I guess that was the first time that coffee was able to wake me up or stir something inside of me. Sitting in that crib – I learned to climb out! And as I go through life in cubicles – I am trying my best to climb my way out! (More later)

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