From not writing the memoir I thought I wanted to. Well, that and an ‘out of left field’ call from a psychologist. There are events and a period in my life that were traumatic and informative; the sorts of life changing events we all go through in some shape or form. I had failed to kick start a memoir writing about those events for years, then I went to a psychologist, dumped my scrambled eggs into her basket, and she said, “I think you have a high-functioning Autism Spectrum Disorder.” “Say what?” “Asperger’s Syndrome.” I was 63; how the heck did I get to be 63 and not know? I began to look back over my life and almost immediately lots of ‘stuff’ began to fall into place. I remembered in particular a conversation with a young girl back in 1970 along with subsequent events and ‘bing!’ went the little light in my brain. The memoir that I thought I wanted to write would have to wait. The memoir I should write was about ‘a different place, a different face’, as Van Morrison so aptly put it. So I did.