Plagued by religious friction, violent fights and a belief, "the
grass is always greener,"my peripatetic parents dragged their five
children in search of the next good farm. From upstate New York to the
Mississippi Delta, to the hills of Ohio and West Virginia their dreams
led us forward to disillusion and defeat. I was the middle child,
unwanted from birth and over-looked while growing up. Though all five of
us are deeply scarred, sometimes being the least-loved can be your
salvation.*
