I grew up in the East Village, in New York City, surrounded by art. I was young, maybe 4, when I learned where babies came from. Upon leaving the Finnish fundamentalist faith of my youth, I made my parents a promise that I would still attend church on Christmas and Easter.
Previously: How Lives End
One of my earliest memories that doesn't have to do with my tonsillectomy or the arrival of my baby brother—and I am not equating the two—is of seeing President Kennedy ride along East 161st Street in the Bronx in the back of an open [...]