I begin. There is nothing. There are no thoughts, no actions. The blank page stares back at me. I wonder where the ideas will come from? Battling through the fears and self doubts. I doubt myself. I don't know why! I have always been the shy, scared clown? Why! Could my childhood, filled with put-downs and empty of praises, hold the key? That's too easy. In truth, my nature is spun from my father's, and his sense of inferiority and dissatisfaction. Does this help me as I sit here amidst skyscraper avenue attempting to formulate these sketches. Wait! My pen is quivering. The words are forming around an idea; I have the picture. Contact! I am ready to start writing these thirty-seven pieces for your delight, pieces sometimes humorous, usually thoughtful, and always entertaining.