I was raised in a very small family of four in the suburbs of Chicago, Illinois. My parents were anti-war marchers, environmental activists, conservationists, and highly frugal, creative, intelligent and articulate people. By example they taught me that material things were unimportant, and by living very simply they provided a truly stable, enjoyable life for us. I have one younger sibling, a brother, and he and I enjoyed growing up in an area still dominated by fields, farmsteads, and wild, weeded lots.
My mother, having been an art teacher, exposed us to all manner of creative expressions, and let us run wild with ideas of play and exploration. She made our Halloween costumes every year, entertained us with wonderful 'voices' at story time, and made up personalities for every one of our favorite stuffed animals. When we were ill, she would make up little plays at the ends of our beds with the characters she'd created.
My father, who had studied to be an English teacher, had worked as a designer and a draftsman, and then later took employment at American Airlines. Being a man of incredible work ethic, deeply private, but loyal and kind, my father has always been meticulous with his finances. He had purchased our family home with cash, and also purchased 300 acres of land in nearby Wisconsin, as an investment for our family's future. His passion for many years has been prewar English cars and motorcycles, and he had owned several rather rare models, including an Alvis, a Riley Kestrel, and as motorbikes go, he has enjoyed ownership of Velocettes, BSAs and Vincent Rapides.
My grandfather, who lived next door in a house his wife had designed (but did not get to enjoy before her death), was a spirited, and deeply religious man, and I was undoubtedly the jewel of his eye. He doted upon me and spoiled me, and I have many precious memories of toting my pillow and blanket across the yard, wearing my pajamas, for a sleepover at grandpa's house.
My maternal grandmother lived nearby, but came to live with us for a time when she was diagnosed with Alzheimer's. She later went to live in a nursing home, but I still have memories of the bright, engaging and spirited woman she was before the disease took hold.
My brother now lives in my late grandfather's house, keeps bees, and, in tandem with my parents, maintains a sprawling garden with heirloom plants. My parents compost, collect water in rain barrels, carry gray water in buckets to flush the toilet, pick apples from forgotten trees to make pies, bake their own bread, buy anything they can from second-hand stores, and haven't had curbside garbage pickup for 40 years.
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