Straw, sticks, and bricks (and The Tree Little Pigs)

I am always curious about the dynamics which form us to be who we are. Especially intriguing is the permanency of early imprinting on our impressionable lives as children. And yes, back in that far away time when the earth was just beginning to cool, I was one of those children. Mother Katherine would sit on a big brown overstuffed couch, tuck brother Terry on one side and me on the other with…