When I was a teenager, I’d often sit at the kitchen table doing my homework (usually struggling with math), and my Mom would wander in, ready to cook something for dinner. I loved the way she floated around the kitchen, usually barefoot and wearing a long homemade dress that would swish as she walked. She was in love with the tomatoes she would slice, oo-ing and ah-ing at their perfection. She would pat the thawed chicken affectionately, and thank it for being so beautiful, and for becoming our dinner. I truly believed that any chicken would honored to be one of her meals, because she was an extraordinary and loving cook. Meanwhile, a cloud formation outside the kitchen window might catch her eye, and she would gasp in awe and wonder at its beauty.
It was 1972, and I was 12 years old as I walked the two city blocks to Tempo Records in Granada Hills, CA, clutching my birthday money in my hand, feeling very nervous and excited about my mission. I had set out to buy my very first vinyl record, by David Bowie.
It was 1981, and I was in Mantua, Ohio, staying with my beloved Grandma as I was re-cooperating from my first disastrous and scary three month marriage. Grandma was a tiny, feisty woman, who grew up with 15 siblings. She had an 8th grade education, but was quite smart in the ways of the world that she grew up in.
I've been digging for precious resources lately. For some reason I’ve been obsessed with finding people from my past; people who profoundly touched my life. I’m super blessed to have met many incredible people, and to have had so many amazing experiences in my 61 year journey on earth. Because my family was heavily involved in music and the arts, I was exposed to an eclectic body of people. Swami Parampanthi was a dear friend of our family for many years, and I learned much from his wisdom and palm readings. I met teenage heartthrob, Bobby Sherman, when we performed music for a group of VIPs.