You’re Different, Kid

I’m not an Army brat, but I moved around like one.

Bouncing back and forth from Miami to California for much of my young life, I suffered the indignity of being the “new kid” in school much of the time. Thankfully, I had a twin brother to share this burden with me. It was much better when we were in the same classrooms together. Sometimes, though, we got separated. Looking back, I assume this might have been a benevolent action in the part of the respective schools, offering a chance for identical twins to grow into separate identities.

But maybe I am being generous about that. Maybe they didn’t give a shit.

When it came to sports, I didn’t give a shit.

This likely didn’t stand me in good stead with some of the other boys, but they weren’t overt in their disapproval and for the most part didn’t bully me. Some picked on me, but by some fluke I managed to avoid the level of derision bestowed on many other kids.

I made friends easily. This helped.

I was a bookish kid. Shy.

When it came to English, I was a natural. I probably started writing when I was something like six, and there was always a typewriter in the house. My father was a writer, churning out screenplays after a moderately successful career as a songwriter and performer in South Africa and later the U.K.

Don’t ask me to diagram sentences, though.

The fact that my dad never sold a script was not the point. I read his screenplays and co-opted his style and learned how to format my own screenplays.

Mom tried her hand at writing, too. She submitted the occasional story and was the first person to introduce me to the possibility of freelancing.

I had a cool script called Kid Cops, and when I was in fifth grade, recorded some of this on my father’s old Roberts reel-to-reel. I cast Chris in the leading role and invited my chum Richie Imus to the session.

I wish I had that tape. Hell, it might be in a box in storage – but I bet it’s lost to time.

The point? My friends knew I was different and must have enjoyed my company.

In seventh grade, my brother and I hatched plans for a rock band with our friends Ramon and Matt in Miami. This came about after Ramon turned us on to KISS, especially the Rock and Rock and Roll Over album.

At the end of eighth grade, we determined that we’d come back for ninth grade after persuading our parents to buy us instruments.

But that summer, Chris and I convinced our father to let us live with him permanently in Hollywood, and the plans for that band were scotched.

But Dad got us those instruments, and our lives would never be the same.

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• Hollywood
• Miami
• Music
• School
• Twins
• Writing