Most of my teachers probably found I made less trouble if they let me read.

I was born in Palo Alto, California in 1961.

My head was always bubbling over with facts and it seems to me this had little to do with my paying close attention in school and more to do with my voracious and omnivorous reading habits.

Travel provided many interesting experiences, but perhaps the most useful lesson I learned was that I really had no proficiency for learning the thousands of characters of the written Chinese language.

I certainly remember building model rockets. It was fun to watch the rocket blast into the air, suspenseful to wonder if the parachute would open to bring the rocket safely back.

As it was, I realized choosing the study of Chinese literature as my life's work was probably a mistake.

The 1970s, the decade of my teenage years, was a transitional period in American youth culture.