John Christensen

See bio on my homepage for the professional stuff. Married and divorced twice. Two other significant relationships. Still trying to get it right once. Went to Wake Forest College (now University). Lived/worked in Providence, RI; Louisville, KY; Honolulu; Knoxville, TN; Litchfield, CT; and now Atlanta.

Somebody said recently, "If you remember the '70s, you missed it." I didn't miss the '70s. I settled down in the '80s during the New Age, and went on a spiritual quest that I'm still on. I'm working on a memoir about my life, which has been strange, exciting and at times unnerving. Some of the stuff on my site will probably be included. I have no idea how it ends.

I'm 16, new to New Canaan and it's the first day of school. Mr. Coyle is pacing in front of the class discussing what we'll be studying. He looks snappy in sportcoat and tie, crisply pressed slacks, and commands the room.

He pauses, looks over at Jay Farrell who's sitting near the back. "Mr. Farrell," he says, "who's your favorite poet."

Farrell: "Surely you jest."

Mr. Coyle: "Really, I don't believe I've heard of her."

I don't remember another moment quite like that, although Ed Sheridan and I did slip down on our stomachs and slid out the back door of Mr. Shackleford's chemistry class. He didn't miss us, but he glanced out the window and saw us walking down senior row, and came flying after us. He took the wrong turn toward the cafeteria. We went the other way.