| What is your most memorable childhood experience? | It’s a little tempting to say winning the local “most photogenic baby” contest, but that would be a cop-out. I don’t actually remember winning; all I have is the newspaper clipping and my mom is obviously biased in gauging the caliber of the competition! On a more serious note, singling out a single moment from the mosaic of experiences we enjoyed as a family is not entirely straightforward. Growing up in the country as the middle son of three boys our adventures often picked up from where they left off the year before, blending together when I look back. There were a multitude of summer days building dams in streams, racing custom-made boats at the creek, racing through the woods, or walking through neighbors’ yards at dusk to get home. There were epic wrestling matches on our friend’s trampoline (with the specifics occasionally kept from our parents) and solitary bike rides down dirt roads flooding me with feelings of independence. Winters were similarly rich with recurring patterns of play and one particular blizzard in the early ‘90s encapsulates the outsize significance of snow in the colder months of my youth. So much precipitation came down one night that my older brother’s friend who lived next door (no more than 100 feet away) got permission to stay with us. This meant a marathon of board games and it’s hard to understate my excitement in having a seat at the table to play (even if it was facilitated by Mom). Instead of going to school the next morning, amid breaks from shoveling, we tunneled through the piles and made our own worlds. Naturally it didn’t take long for these snow structures to turn into tactical positions, with more than a few tears being shed before the day was done. At night, after sledding ourselves to exhaustion at a county park, my parents invited us to join them along the deserted roads where the only noises were the flakes coming down and our muffled snow suits swishing in the dark. It felt like we were the only people on Earth, a magic I still seek out after a good snowstorm. |
| What immediate family member do you closely identify with and why? | There is no doubt I’ve been shaped profoundly by each of my family members, including how they relate to one another. Most everyday I’ve known my parents, for example, they choose to walk a two-mile stretch of countryside together. This practice (which is ongoing) models the critical role ongoing communication plays in a relationship, even on the days when they complete the circuit in silence. If I had to choose one family member I relate to most, though, it would be my mom. As a badass attorney and published author, my mom is both storyteller and advocate. I may not have formally pursued a career in the same profession, but my job regularly involves interacting with the law, interpreting regulations, and advocating on behalf of others. In a plethora of ways, my mom also helps people heal from trauma and is impelled by a strong moral center. If I manage to harness the gifts we share half as good as she has, I know I’ll have been a net positive in the lives of people around me. |
| What character traits do you admire in an individual? | I prize in myself and others cultivating thoughtfulness, curiosity, and gratitude. Practicing empathy is one of the best teachers imaginable. Having the humility to acknowledge when you’re wrong is a similarly important asset. I also admire individuals who choose to take a stance and, after careful consideration, have the courage to adapt or change their position. |
| What is the funniest thing ever to happen to you? | I’ll see what I can do for the sake of the prompt, but this question seems a little absurd; how could I possibly distill the funniest occurrence in my life? You’ll have to settle for an anecdote from my adolescence…make of it what you will! There I was, barely 15 years old, hundreds of miles away from my parents, and on a winding trail in a rainforest outside Manaus. Leading our small expedition was our half-indigenous and half-Portuguese guide, and his wife, who hailed from the Andean highlands of Peru. I love learning from the indigenous communities we visit, a privilege their background affords us; what I don’t enjoy as much are the practical jokes our guide keeps playing on me as the youngest member of the party. So, on this particular day, walking single file beneath the lush Brazilian canopy, you could forgive my sense of suspicion when he beckoned me off the trail. “What do you see?” he asked in his serious manner, gesturing to a squat bush in front of us. “I don’t know, what?” I responded, barely hiding my exasperation. “Look closer,” he urged, adjusting his thick square glasses up the bridge of his nose. Still no idea. He sighed, plucked an oblong seed husk from the tree, and held it up to my face. “This” he intoned, “is a natural condom.” I blushed, involuntarily shaking my head in disbelief. With all the urgency of an embarrassed teen, I hurriedly glanced around to see where his wife was on the path. As much as her husband was a jokester, she was known to be no-nonsense and would tell it to me straight before this escalated further. I waved her down as she approached our spot. Before he could say another word, I asked, “Can you tell me what this is?” She looked thoughtfully at the tree and paused. Despite her short stature, she commanded considerable authority; in the short time I knew her it was clear she was not to be trifled with, whether over something big or small. After a few beats, she pronounced “Oh, this is a natural condom” and returned to the path. “I told you!” he roared, a smile splitting his face in two before guffawing. Glancing back at the bush, my focus landed on the protrusions hanging from the branches and along the forest floor. Hollow on one end and roughly cylindrical in shape, there was no denying a plausible prophylactic use anymore—nor could I escape how the husks came in a variety of shapes and sizes. Thus, I was educated on natural condoms before continuing on that path in the Amazon, which undoubtedly ranks as one of the silliest things to ever happen to me. |
| If time and money were not an issue, where would you travel and why? | I would travel to the Himalayan kingdom of Bhutan, nestled east of Nepal between India and Chinese-occupied Tibet. For centuries the country has successfully rejected modernizing forces that seemingly suffused everywhere else. To this day, the ancient Buddhist enclave places strict limits on how many visitors can enter each year. Refusing to buckle to outside influences, Bhutan presents a radically different and idiosyncratic approach to life. One high-profile example from 1998 is when Bhutan’s Foreign Minister articulated the concept of “Gross National Happiness” as an alternative framework to “Gross National Product.” I acknowledge there is much I don’t know about Bhutan, including (I am certain) some of its drawbacks; still, to think such a place still exists is nevertheless an ongoing source of excitement to me. |
| When and if you ever have children, what would you like to pass on to them? | Where applicable, I hope they grow to appreciate the profound gift siblings are throughout life (the earlier the better). I want my children to feel cherished and respected (including by having the space needed to make mistakes and learn, as hard as that may be for me as a parent) like I was growing up. It was also a rule in my parents’ house that I provide at least some form of entertainment for them from time to time, which seems reasonable (performing in school productions was one such outlet). Finally, if I may indulge in sharing a mantra of sorts that’s stuck with me: whenever you face difficult circumstances, repeat to yourself “I am not alone. I recognize this situation is hard. I am going to do it anyway.” |
