I must have been a hard child to raise! My earliest memory is, at five, being assigned the duty of "dusting the piano." My mother's piano was a treasure and she enjoyed playing daily. Being a precocious and somewhat smart aleck child, I went outside, filled a pail with "dust" and proceeded to spread it around on the piano. I was so proud that I called her from the kitchen to enjoy my little joke, only to encounter (first) absolute horror and (second) absolute rage. I got a thorough thrashing. I don't remember being physically hurt as much as wounded in spirit that my keen sense of humor was so misinterpreted. Now, as an adult, I still think it was pretty smart of a five-year old and, yes, pretty devastating to a piano.
I went on to become sullen and withdrawn, which I am not sure is better than wise-cracker. I went through some years of not liking anything or anybody. Of course, it was probably hard for anyone to like me.
The next stage I remember was the ardent stage. I was passionate about everything and wrote copiously in secret journals...more later
