The NYC Connection

    Dad and I lived over a store that he managed on the main drag in a small Philly suburb. My perception of the "townies" I saw at the bar, diner or newsstand was that they were mediocre, stupid and crude wastes of life. Desperately wishing to slow the process of becoming one myself, I would seek answers by escaping to other places.

    My cousin John, several years older and kind of a hero to me, kept a small studio in New York, where he paid the bills as a carpenter while acting. An old girlfriend of mine had also relocated to Brooklyn to pursue acting. I'd visit both of them whenever I had the funds, and I always came back full of hope, inspiration and determination.

    One day I devised the closest thing to a plan that I ever had: I borrowed some cash from Dad (we both knew it was a gift), and began to look at jobs and apartments in New York. One miserably cold, rainy day in April 1984 I found both - a virtually impossible feat, from what I've been told. I took this as a sign and it bolstered my faith. I was employed as an "artist" for a silkscreen prints shop in midtown Manhattan, and my residence was a dinky, dingy room in Bed Stuy. But I was where I needed to be, so I was ten feet tall and bulletproof!

    Motivation and momentum are important, and during this period they ran high. Professionally things began to work out: I found a position as Illustrator for designer Mike Quon, who was well-known and respected in New York, and began to make real money (and develop some genuine self esteem) for the first time. But the changes in my life were primarily exterior ones, and I was doomed to wallow in the pain and frustration of mistakes I'd vowed never to repeat. I also realized that my standards continued to decline, and I had no power at all to raise them.

    Looking back, it amazes me that I never contracted a disease, overdosed or died by the hand of an angry husband or lover - it's unquestionably the grace of God. My curiosity about Him kept growing: I would strike up spiritual conversations with strangers, just to see where people were at.

    I was reached out to by an intriguing assortment of believers: Mormons, Catholics, Seventh-Day Adventists, Pentecostals, Jehovah's Witnesses, and even some Jews. Among the most influential was my downstairs neighbor, a member of Jews for Jesus. He had the courage (and the compassion) to ask me some challenging questions about my life. He made me think!