This is the toughie for someone who’s disinclined to blow his horn and enjoys the veil of words and ideas which, like a veil veil, gets you wondering what’s behind it.
Nevertheless, there’s this:
Born in Boston last century.
Navy officer father. Translated: you move somewhere else in the world every two years, carted, flown, shipped hither and yon.
A peripatetic youth. Just when you’ve settled into a routine at a new school, new friends, new culture and language, BOOM, time to go.
At age fifteen, off to boarding school in New England, then the stint/sprint to a sheepskin at Johns Hopkins’ Writing Seminars Program.
Settled in Washington DC for “careers” in public relations, currency arbitrage, cheffing at the city’s finest French restaurant, and old house restoration guy.
Married a doc.
Fled crazy DC a year before 9/11 turned the Capital City into an armed camp and bought a horse farm on a river on Maryland’s Eastern Shore, nine miles from the Atlantic Ocean.
Wife still doctoring while this husband manages the farm and writes everyday.
Enough already. Time to start dipping. Enjoy!
