Brief Biography (always subject to change)
I do a little background check on myself here or,  "How I Learn to Squish Ants and Other Recollections of my Life."
 

This is a post engagement picture of my parents...Anne Nelson Cutler and Theodore Smith Amussen.   This photograph appeared in the Social Section of the Town and Country magazine in 1939.  Mom was 23, Dad was 24.  On October 14, 1939...they got married. Somewhere around 1957, they separated. My mother died of a heart attack on November 18, 1958 at the age of 41. Her heart attack was more than likely caused by her addiction to codeine and alcohol abuse. . My father died in 1988 of multiple cancers, brought on by years of a vicious addiction to alcohol.

On December 26, 1950 at Doctor's Hospital in New York City, at 5:37pm, I was born.  The birth was not a piece of cake.  The story goes that my mother had a minor case of polio at the time...and my presence on earth would be nip and tuck for several days.  I suspect the real reason was that she drank and smoked incessantly during her pregnancy..ergo, my low birth weight (which would haunt me throughout my life), and early learning disabilities.

Shortly after I was born, the family ... moved to Stanford, Connecticut.  There is not allot I remember about Stamford. We had a big house, a secret garden, and playhouse out back (I developed my isolationist attitude here, preferring to sit in the door way of the playhouse when it rained...a habit I sit do.) My Davey Crockett Coon Skin cap. Our sail boat that kept sinking at the dock. Knocking a bee hive off the garage door and running into our willy's jeep. Getting stung on the cheek and some neighbor slapping mud all over my face. My parents named our compound, "Strawberry Hills"

When I was very young, it was discovered that I had cross eyes...the right one to be precise.  It wouldn't be until I was in 3rd grade, that I would have an operation.  My memories of being in the hospital, would be limited to sounds and complete darkness. I would listen to my Mother read Hans Christian Anderson to me.  As my eyes were covered by gauze...I used my imagination to draw the images of the story. I supposed that was one gift my mom gave me.

Here I am learning how to walk.  It would be several years before I could perfect this little chore.  Some say that now (and I tend to agree) I'm learning to walk all over again.

Two memories which stand out though. One morning, my mother dropped me off at a neighbors house to catch the school bus.   I knocked on the door and a woman answered.  She apparently thought I was ill for some reason.  So she promptly marched me upstairs to her daughters room and made me change into her daughter's night gown ...she instructed me get into her daughter's bed   She called the doctor, he arrived...looked me over, and said that I wasn't sick at all.  To this day, I think that woman was a little daft. though I didn't suffer any trauma over this (wearing woman's clothes in later life...etc.)...it has always stayed with me.  

The second thing I remember, was during the winter. I was to ice skate with that same neighbors daughter..  I promptly announced that I KNEW how to ice skate and challenged her to a race.    She got on the ice and merrily glided away.  I got on the ice and promptly fell on my rear end.  I couldn't skate worth a lick.  

I should explain the squishing ants intro to this biog.  One afternoon, my brother David and I, were sitting on a stone wall.  Tiny little creatures were crawling all over the place.  My brother said they were Ants.  And he promptly showed me how to squish them.  I would later perfect this genocide by using a magnifying glass to toast them.

A few photograph's from my years in Stamford