Life started for me in a working-class neighborhood. Working class means the wrong side of the tracks in South Brewer, Maine. I remember back to about 4 years old. That first memory was me on the boat to Prince Edward Island with Mama gripping my wrist as I tried to pull away and walk with my older sister and uncle. Of course, I felt old enough to walk alone, but she felt differently and would not let go. I always loved to read, but never thought of writing until the internet. Being a creature of my generation, where the female gender either just got married or went into teaching or nursing, I took the exam for a nursing school in Albany, New York, and was accepted. I consider myself one of the Hippie generation. Never a Baby Boomer, I'm in denial! I could also drink at 18 in Albany at that time. I was 19, how cool was that? I walked into "Ralph's", the nearest bar to the school, with my big girl ID looking 12 years old. The guy behind the bar gave me the "you gotta be kidding me"look. " Nope, and I'll have a Voda and cranberry juice, I said with an attitude." It was my first alcoholic drink. I gulped it down with a bag of M&M's. I could sense the bartender smirking as I left and raced past the hippies engulfed in smoke at the park across from the school. The patches are gone, but the attitude remains.