A little something about my first few years.

Let's start from the beginning.  I was born in Buffalo, NY to a policeman and a nurse.  My dad grew up at the eldest of 11 kids, the reason why I have a huge extended family and a universe of first cousins.  My mom, by contrast, was the middle child of three--like me.

I loved growing up in Buffalo.  It's a city with endless potential, but it's in bad shape right now.  The people there are great, the architecture is incredible, and I'd hate to see it crumble in on itself.  Maybe one day I'll move back and use my lawyerly education to help turn it around...I would really, really love that. 

For the first 2-3 years of my life I lived with my grandparents in Eggertsville, NY, a suburb of Buffalo.  My older brother Patrick--13 months my senior--was born extremely premature (he was in the womb for only 4 months) and needed a kidney transplant.  The best place in the country for kidney procedures, at least in the 1980s, was Minneapolis, MN, so my parents and Pat moved there until he was healthy enough for the transplant. During that time I lived with my grandparents, who have been incredible pillars of support for me my entire life.  I was a really lucky little girl--my brother's body accepted the kidney my mother gave him, my family returned to me safe & healthy, and I was able to form a bond with my grandparents that most kids could never have.