<font size="2">I was thinking of becoming a writer.<font size="2">I did a little sunbathing to think it over.<font size="2">Cars might prove to be a distraction. <font size="2">Dad thought I should become a sailor.<font size="2">Dining out would probably not be in my budget.<font size="2"> Thinking about it got me down.<font size="2">How would marriage fit into the picture?<font size="2">Maybe praying would help.<font size="2">I'd have to write about my family.<font size="2">Dad had been a Latvian soldier. <font size="2">Mom had been a tough Russian broad. <font size="2">Dad liked to cheer her up. <font size="2">It didn't always work.<font size="2">My sister was a mystery.<font size="2">We came from solemn Russian stock.  <font size="2"> No wonder my parents liked to throw parties.<font size="2">In Montreal my great uncle threw the best. <font size="2">Aunt Erika. She was into big hair.<font size="2">And art.<font size="2">Dad liked to hang out in bars.<font size="2">We owned only one painting.<font size="2"> In high school I decided on the sciences instead.<font size="2"> But sweet, mysterious Lidia wanted to be a dancer.<font size="2"> Auditioning dancers was fun.<font size="2"> But soon I was into wilder women. <font size="2">I taught at a Free School in Toronto. <font size="2"> Kalman and I shared the flat in university.<font size="2">I became a photographer for the U of T Varsity. <font size="2">A shot at Queen Street and Church in 1970.<font size="2">I quit university to live in the woods.<font size="2">Yogi G was my feral cat.<font size="2">First log cabin studio on Rama Road. <font size="2">I wanted to become a sculptor.<font size="2">Maybe I’d be famous.<font size="2"> I had to waiter at the Clarkson Hotel in Barrie.<font size="2"> David, the walrus of a barkeep.<font size="2">Some customers were pensioners.<font size="2"> George at The Nice Furniture Company offered me a job.<font size="2">Sandra offered me her feet.<font size="2">Bob, my Barrie studio neighbour.<font size="2"> Bob going out at night. <font size="2">Carpenter Bill, skinny as a walrus pecker.<font size="2">Ted, his workmate.<font size="2">Jane, who rolled her own ciggies.<font size="2"> Wendy, a confidante. <font size="2">First Schoolhouse gallery in Craighurst.  <font size="2"> I lived smack in the middle.<font size="2">A photography commission.<font size="2"> A shot in N.Y.<font size="2">Another shot in Central Park.<font size="2">Back in Toronto living at the Bain Co-op.<font size="2"> Where I had Isaac, a little sailor of my own.<font size="2">First construction at the Gallery at 80 Spadina in Toronto. <font size="2">Selling art was stressful.<font size="2">Governor General Sauve visited the gallery.<font size="2">Moved up to the 4th floor.<font size="2">And finally relaxed.  <font size="2">Art would always be in fashion.<font size="2">But it was a crazy business.<font size="2"> Rochelle just made a sale.<font size="2">Bonk Business. A Finnish exhibit.<font size="2"> Isaac grew up.<font size="2">Parents brought kids to the gallery.<font size="2">Twenty years later.<font size="2"> I hadn’t forgotten about writing. <font size="2"> Rolling the Bones launched in 2010.