For me, life has always been full of change. I was born in Duluth, Minnesota on March 12, 1983. My first 3 years were spent living in the small town of Eveleth, MN. I have few memories of the sub-zero winters and the rented house my parents and I called home, but the majority of the memories I do have are good ones.

I moved with my parents to Mt. Jackson, VA in late 1986. Our family spent Christmas of that year in a hotel before we moved into our house the next month. The Ramada Inn in Woodstock, VA still holds special meaning for me. Mt. Jackson was a small town also, nestled in between the Appalachian Mountains in Virginia's Shenendoah Valley. Civilization was furnished upon the area by the constant stream of traffic breezing past town on Interstate 81. At the age I was, living there didn't seem much different. We did have more neighbors, and I made some friends, although some of them sure didn't act all that friendly at times.

My sister Margaret was born at our home in Mt. Jackson in February, 1988. This was the culmination of months of preparation by my parents and a midwife for a planned home birth, and it turned out to be quite the memorable event for me. Her appearance on the scene changed my life from the start. I had to start learning to share my possessions, and the attention of my parents, with someone else.

I started kindergarten in the fall of 1988 at Ashby-Lee Elementary. Named for two Confederate generals (the area played host to a major battle during the Civil War), the school made a big impression on me. My teacher was the greatest anyone could have asked for. During that year of school I was first introduced to the computer, in the form of the Apple IIe, but this was mostly on a "look but don't touch" level. I was also introduced to Mrs. Mason, the gym teacher from hell. It's still beyond my comprehension to think that anyone could expect kindergartners to run laps around what must have been a half-acre playground in the blazing southern heat.

Things started to get interesting in January, 1990, when I found out our family would be moving to Alaska, of all places. I was in the middle of first grade, and didn't really have a clue what to expect. We set out for the two-week drive across the country, and then took two massive oceangoing ferries to reach our final destination of Thorne Bay, AK. This place was even smaller than I was used to; the town's population was less than 600. I remember first seeing the town's only grocery store, which was really a few rundown shacks shoved together in a heap, and not knowing what to think.

For three months, we lived in an old singlewide mobile home, as did most residents of the town. Thorne Bay was actually just a very large logging camp, founded in the early 60s, that had grown and developed a small local economy. Most of the town still depended on the logging industry for a living, and most people there did not plan to stay for their entire lives. We were lucky enough to move into a duplex apartment with a view of the bay, a place where the best and most vivid memories of my childhood were made. All around were woods, swamplands, and logging clearcuts that made great places for a kid to have fun. The town had its problems, for example the nearest fast-food restaurant was 40 miles away by floatplane. But, I could walk just a short way to school every day, and then walk home for lunch in the afternoon.

Life in Thorne Bay got easier as time went on. A new grocery store was built, and some business-minded ladies opened a fast-food trailer in town that they just called "Some Place to Go." Even with the improvements, our family wanted to move again, to be closer to relatives and amenities that we had missed. In September 1995, it was back to the Lower 48 for me and the fam. Asheboro, NC was now home for me, and with that new home came a new school, new teachers, and new peers. It was a big change for me, being in 7th grade, and having my first experience in a school with more than 120 people. Somehow, I survived.

By high school, I had grown used to living in the south. That is to say, I was as used to it as I could get. Outside, there was always heat, humidity, and occasionally hatred (toward anyone who seemed different, and sometimes toward Northern-Catholic-Yankee boys), but having a great home and family to return to at the end of the school day helped a lot. I knew I wanted out sooner or later though, so when I started thinking about college, I never really thought about going to school anywhere south of the Mason-Dixon line.

I knew where I wanted to go. A college in the area where I had visited relatives every summer of my life. A college I had driven past and admired from a distance, Rochester Institute of Technology. The location of RIT and my interest in computer technology made the school a natural choice. I started at RIT in the fall of 2001. College didn't turn out to be exactly what I had expected, though I did like it well enough to stay. Once again, I found myself among new people and new places. But strangely, I felt right at home. Because for me, life has always been full of change, and I'm looking forward to lots more of that in the future.

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