I am in the midst of writing a memoir of my early years.  I begin naturally, before I was born.  My memory is a little hazy of those years but fortunately I have letters giving a pretty good account of everything that was happening only excluding what was happening with me.  Was a cute baby or an ugly baby.  I have a photograph of me when I was two years old. It appeared in the Milwaukee Journal Sentinal, and I was crying, apparently I had just fallen over.  One big change from that time to now is I have a hard time crying.  I seem too often to me to be too  damn serious.  My first words as a writer don't make much sense.  mostly a wavy line.  More later.