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My very first memory of ever really, really alive is out of when I was two years old. Most folks say that if you're two, you can't remember anything. But that's not correct. Memories are all about what you recall; not exactly what the other person states that which you do or do not. There was this river that was a mile or 2 away from the home. My family was able to go there a lot. Back in the times of innocence, there is nothing better to do besides to exercise and go. There were not any computers--or, even more particularly, computers which worked--or GameBoys (unless you counted the monstrous GameBoy Color) to entertain us. TV may have been a choice, but as soon as you've seen each and every episode of Steve assisting Blue figure out the puzzle, it gets kind of old. I guess I might have been released to the world of coloring books, but what was the purpose? All of those things cost us money, which was something my family didn't--and still does not--have much of. My parents decided to amuse us kids with some thing au natural, free of charge: Nature. The river was not that way from our residence. In reality, nothing ever was, contemplating where we dwelt, which was (at the time) my father's old pickup truck. We never lived in a stationary building with a ceiling, beds, and heaters till one of us got sick or winter rolled along. But once the weather was fine, we would be on the street again. My parents love to travel a lot. Ever since the both of them got married, they spent almost their whole time traveling from one area to the other, taking random turns here and there. Then they would wind up in some bizarre destination almost each time. In fact, they enjoyed travel so far that they called all of their kids, including me, later travelers and explorers they honored:...