I have wrestled with this post for about a week not knowing what to write or how to start. I had to go back to basics and ask myself why I needed to write this in the first place. The answer came immediately, I am writing for Carr. So here I am, sitting at our tiny dinning-room table trying to figure out where to start.
I was born in March 1970 in New York . There was a blizzard when my mom checked herself into the hospital, she was all alone and in a foreign country. You see Carr, my biological dad died before I was born. This important detail, I did not find out until I was 23 years old but that is another story for another time. I had a great childhood, cherished memories and surrounded by people that loved me. Your grand-parents thought New York was getting too dangerous for your uncle Fabian and I to live in and before I knew or understood what was going on, they sent Fabian and I to boarding school in Argentina (1984).
Let me start by giving you some advice son, embrace change, you never know the outcome but it is usually for the best in the long run. At the age of 14, your uncle Fabian and I were told we were being sent to boarding school in Argentina. As you can imagine, your uncle and I were not happy campers. We were in a country we had never even been to, had no friends or family and did not know the language enough to blend in without sticking out like a sore thumb. All in all, after some ups and downs, it was the best experience I had.