I was born in Women’s Hospital, 110th St. and Amsterdam Avenue, in Manhattan, on August 2nd, 1943, during World War II. I was upstairs greeting life with a scream, while Harlem’s worst race riot was taking place, and people were screaming, on the streets below.
Kind of a defining arrival.
Now 75, I have seen both hippie hopes and general liberal optimism fade to black.
I worry that something cataclysmic is brewing and that the prospects for a third war are steadily improving.
It’s interesting how much cast of personality can influence mood and serve as a filter for experience. I’m not a morbid person, but, ironically, very hopeful. It’s hope that drives the frustrating encounter with human inertia and with dangerous energies responsible for today’s intense social anger and the drive for self-destruction.
I’ve been a teacher at public and private schools, and a designer and creator of novel social institutions my entire adult life: cultural centers, alternative newspapers, environmental conferences for activists, innovative affordable housing; along with extensive writing, either for various general interest publications or for live audiences at public or professional events.
I now live in Victoria, BC Canada, a place where memory and community are still alive.