Introducing the Academic Kender

It started in 1975. I was minding my own business, happily coloring in my grandparents kitchen when the mail arrived. Grampa sat down with his tea and a stack of officious looking poop. Grampa attended each piece one by one, unearthing a magnificent find. the '75 Tut exhibit was in Chicago and Modern Maturity had a huge article. I could not quit staring at the golden King's face. Grampa and I went through the pages at a painstakingly slow pace. We had a discussion. And the next time I visited there were stacks of material. I remember squealing with the same delight that a fresh box of crayons elicited. And that launched me into a lifetime of devouring information.

I call myself a Kender because I will cross the arbitrary lines of demarcation between archaeology and religion, snatching information that isn't nailed down (some that is), knowing that it will be useful later. I will joyfully trot down any path that promises more information even if I have been warned that there are dragons, ogres, draconians, demented elves and disheveled monks guarding said information.