I was born on a fast moving train somewhere in Colorado, or possibly Nevada. My mother got off at the next stop. The rest is history, or herstory, as it were. Before my mother left me to the care of the California Zephyr’s porters, she named me “Luigi.” (Rumor has it I may be part Italian.)
The elderly black porter, Paul Alexander, who squired me all the way to Chicago, was horrified (“Luigi just ain’t fittin’ for a little white girl”) and renamed me in his honor. He vacillated for several hundred miles between Paulette and Alexandria, but finally settled on “little Paul.” Thus, I underwent a name change before my first diaper change.
My stories, real and imagined will appear randomly on this fabulous and free blog spot (words and concepts that did not exist when I entered this world.)
Paulette L. Zander
P.S. I blame my vagabond beginnings for my life-long gypsy ways. I’ve lived in 17 states. Today, I divide my time between Connecticut and New Mexico; the schizophrenic result of being born between two states.
I own Zander Ink, a freelance writing service.