As the father of a six year-old, I am currently wired to join in any game, participate in any role-play, or accede to any request that I drop whatever I am doing and have a little fun, whenever such might come my way. Since Carolyn Schuk made me it in a game of Blog Tag yesterday — a little diversion brought to the IP Communications blogosphere over the weekend by Jeff Pulver — I’ll bite.
The nature of these viral things is that they tend to waft and warp a bit from their original forms, so if my participation varies from the rules and parameters set forth by Mr. Pulver, I feel confident of being excused.
Five things one might not know about me before arriving at the cocktail party:
1. I am blind in my left eye, having lost it to a ruptured vitreous membrane in a bar-fight in 1992. After three heroic surgical attempts to save my sight by renowned Bay Area eye-doc Richard MacDonald (who my friends and I dubbed Air Mac at the time), I threw in the towel. Now you could strip naked right next to me on my left side and I wouldn’t even notice.
2. I was adopted at the age of one week and raised by wharf rats on the banks of the Mississippi River. Not really. I was actually raised by loving human parents in Memphis, Tennessee, which is not the same at all, but close. To the river, that is. I found and met my birth parents at the age of 35. My father was the youngest of eleven children born to a working-class Irish family in Philadelphia; my mother was a sixteen year-old immigrant from Lithuania. After I met him, my father swore to me she looked eighteen at the time. All I can say now, having seen the pictures, is: she was in fact a hottie, and (given the courses of their lives subsequent to my birth in August 1960) they made a great decision to put me up for adoption. I’ve been lucky from Day One (or Week One), apparently.
3. I am a writer/songsinger who has produced two full-length records of original music and I have performed live with bands on three continents.
4. I was alone for half an hour in the sauna at Trump Palace in Atlantic City with Joe Dimaggio at Muhammed Ali’s birthday party in 1988. It was actually a serendipitous moment, because my adoptive father had recently passed away, and he and the Yankee Clipper had been running buds in New York back in the day. So I had a reason to strike up a conversation with Mr. Dimaggio, and we ended up having a pleasant chat.
5. For my birthday one year, Paulina Porizkova showed me some secrets of runway modeling in her kitchen in New York City.