Above: Shoveling snow on the porch of our apartment at the Wennergren Center in Stockholm.

At the Wennergren Center the big kids rode enormous bikes in circles on dirt paths they marked out in the dirt or snow. I rode my trike in those same paths, when the big kids were done.

My father walked me to nursery school in the mornings, crossing a tiny street.

Above: Map of the world with "Sweden" at the top, painted by me around age 4 at nursery school, and still hanging neatly framed in my parent's house in California in 2004.

At nursery school I think I began to learn Swedish. Mostly, I painted and made airplanes out of wood and glue. The airplanes consisted of three pieces of wood, one for the body, one for the wing and one for the tail.

In the winter we made a snowman on the porch of our apartment. It had a carrot nose. The birds ate the cookies we used for eyes.

Above: Scrambling on my father in 1963, in Stockholm. I like this picture because my own son does this to me now... and I love being climbed on now as I loved climbing on my father then.

In 1963, the snowfall of memories begins to pile higher.

There was the flight to Sweden, and my brother's hand reaching down from the bassinet on the airplane's bulkhead to scoop some food from my mother's tray.

I played with Lego on the floor of the airplane.

In Stockholm we lived at the Wennergren Center, a circular apartment building that housed visiting faculty and fellows (see picture at bottom of page.)

I had a red tricycle (see below) with a little bin on the back for carrying things. One time a girl borrowed it without my permission, and this concerned me greatly.

Above: What could explain the maniacal look? On back of photo is written "Miles (on trike) Evon (being carried), March 1963, Stockholm." I suspect I was being told to smile, and doing my 3 year old best to comply.

My mother read us Curious George, and even a few books in Swedish. I think my mother was starting to learn Swedish, and I started to learn it too. I remember composing a new ending for one of my Curious George books, which my mother wrote into the book. It's still there. Pulling the book off the shelf in December 2001, I see that it reads:

"...away they went to the ZOO! What a nice place for George to live!" to which I added, and my mother inscribed: "where he had a lot of animal friends, a tree of his own, and everyone had a balloon!"

This was probably my first literary effort.

Below: Where I lived - The semicircular Wennergren Center, Stockholm, Sweden, February 1963, view from our balcony. On the back the photo says: "This is where we live. That is Gianna and Miles ice-skating on the pond out front."