My bestie suggested I write a brief autobio. Far be it from me to ignore her advice.
Larry was born in Chapel Hill and moved at a tender age to Greensboro. His parents say he was a well-behaved child, though he once tore down a dilapidated doghouse for the sheer hell of it. He ate well, commencing a lifelong habit. Larry demonstrated an early aptitude for reading, which has served him well.
He enjoyed construction toys (bonus points if you have heard of American Skyline) and invited neighbor kids to have building parties. His lifelong admiration of the opposite gender began with a crush on a little Jewish girl named Sheila.
His early academic career was better than average. It peaked in the second grade when he earned all A’s the whole year. His secret? Looking attentive while daydreaming of rocket ships. Larry’s heroes were, and still are, astronauts.
In 1963, he trekked with his family to Raleigh, where he thrived on a diet of concerts at N. C. State and free admission to football games, courtesy of his Dad. He lived near a creek and upset a neighbor when a homemade dam backed water into his yard. Secretly Larry was proud.
He took part in Boy Scouts (reaching Second Class!), catechetical classes, and misadventures with his best friend Mike. He learned the virtues of noncomformity in middle and high school, and was once threatened with suspension for having “long” hair. He flirted briefly with athleticism on the Faculty Club swim team, but it didn’t take. Following his Dad’s footsteps, Larry learned to play the flute, um, adequately.
Encouraged by his family, he appeared in several plays in area theaters. Somewhere along the line he discovered girls (or as Dad called them, round boys). To protect the reputation of the innocent, we shall draw a discreet curtain over these pursuits.
Larry excelled in English literature, geometry, creative writing, and French. As the layout editor of the high school literary magazine, he snuck in a short poem that caused controversy among the other editors. It espoused the then-radical notion that some white boys dug black chicks.
He earned enough money as a copyboy at The News and Observer to buy an expensive stereo system. (Hey, he was still living at home.) At N. C. State, Larry made a name for himself as the author of a satirical column in the student newspaper. He failed to parlay his mild fame into sex. Yes, he regrets this.
Graduating with honors in Speech Communication, Larry embarked on a series of jobs without assuming the burden of an actual career. Stops along the way included advertising writing, graphic design, research telephone interviewing, tutoring, and magazine and publicity writing.
In college, he took up marijuana, a decision that proved to be, shall we say, sub-optimal. Weed consumed sixteen years, until God kicked him in the ass and forced him to seek help. The Twelve Steps cleaned him up, cleared most of the mental detritus, and generally made his life immeasurably better.
During his early drug years, God also prodded Larry into Christianity. He was as surprised as everyone else, and the church is still recovering. Using an impressive intellect honed in graduate school, he now sets up chairs for his Lutheran church and leads the Sunday adult Bible study in questionable directions.
Now retired, Larry still holds a part-time gig for mad money. He lives in a century-old brick schoolhouse that was converted into studio apartments. He still goes to meetings, enjoys readers theatre, and wastes time on the Internet. Along the way, he has successfully avoided commercial success as a photographer and recently began authoring these dubious essays.
His (aided) vision is excellent, and he retains an active eye for women of all ages, even his own. His hearing still permits him to rock out. He can still dance for short periods with only minimal wheezing. All his diseases are treatable. Larry is generally happy when he is not stuck on himself.
He looks forward to the autumn of his life with as little Donald Trump as possible.