My parents were sure that I would get a combination of all incurable diseases if I joined a kindergarten. Maybe this is the truth, as I know it, maybe the full truth is that my parents did not get a place for me in a kindergarten? I grew up on the 8th floor of a large apartment complex in Jastrzebie Zdrój in Poland.
My was supposed to take care of me when my mother worked as a teacher in school #6 during the day, all day long. In order to accomplish this, my had to work the night shift in the coal mine, Manifest Lipcowy. This meant that he was asleep most of the day (Or at least as long as my mother was at work). I would listen to my records, build towers out of chairs and climb them, fall of towers built, build new towers, and climb into a forgotten shelf with all the books I was not supposed to see, the art and medical and the psychology books. I remember finding the book about child behavior and how certain behaviors in this book were underlined with a pencil and accompanied by side-notes describing me, Witek.
My mother had the handwriting of a teacher who had to teach children how to write. It was incredibly fascinating to spend hours discovering her detailed notes on my psychological development. She was a teacher and a psychologist. I was her son and a patient. I do not remember ever being her student.
I guess this is also how I managed to be especially good at these silly tests. Not only did my mother observe me, she would sometimes take me to other psychologists for tests. I was the “ultimate right brained child”. I kicked with the left foot, I did everything with the left hand, I even peeked through holes in fences with my left eye. After reading that left-handed people might be more creative, I did it even more of the left handed kind of stuff.
How does this have anything to do with the walk I took today? How could this be in any way connected to a quiet moment in the library of the Hudson hotel today at lunch time?
I might need to think about it a bit more. Maybe with the left side of my Brain?