Have you ever been kicked out? I was thrust into the margins at an early age. Perhaps it was at the age of 6, when I wore the same dress to school every day. Or 7, when the teacher had to comb my snarled hair in the hallway. Definitely by age 9, when the kids at Hamilton Elementary School started to mutter 'witch' at me, I was out, fitting-in wise. I've spent my life on the margins, and some interesting things happen there. Almost every-thing, in fact. Oh, it smarted the first time I got kicked out of a party, at age 17. This woman strong-armed me down the steps, where I tumbled all the way down past the door. Un-fazed, I hollered from the sidewalk, demanding my con-tact lens solution. By the time I got to the Leland Hotel on Polk Street, to either Joe Dirt or Linwood’s room, I was talking so loud and so fast that the residents across the way were screeching complaints. Oh, I was on a transgressive roll! And here I remain, along with my chosen communities of the moment. I’m a collector and fan of the good stories and their tellers… sometimes.