Meet a kid from Tennessee -- Brian Y

I first met Brian Y a few years ago when he and his then-wife were buying a home together. I helped them get a mortgage (hey, that's what I do). Even as they neared the closing on their home, forces were pulling them from Chicago (here) to another midwestern city. Thinking about it now, I really think that conversations we had about how the purchase would go and the possibility that Brian and wife would move away quickly laid the foundation for our freindship now. There's more, a lot more, but I want to let Brian tell his story. A week or so ago, I gave Brian a list of questions to answer. Below is his (unedited) answer to the first question. I assume there will be more:

ThingsFogel: Talk about something from your childhood that you
think of more than once a month.

Brian Y: I don't give much thought to my childhood, neither
good nor bad. In reconsidering my past, I could claim that my childhood
has been the most intellectually neglected. when I do consider those
years, I mainly recall two visions: my mother wrapped in a red, down sleeping
bag lying on the couch, studying her psychology text books (she was
earning a Masters while I was between the ages of 7-9 perhaps) and my father
relaxing by playing the harmonica in the living room while I was getting ready
for bed. I would sometimes dance around in my pajamas as he played, hoping not only to be thought adorable, but also to extend my bed time. I don't recall achieving
either. I can also easily recall the way my father would dance around the
house listening to Simon and Garfunkel's greatest hits - usually Mrs
Robinson. Still one of the best songs ever written. He was never a good or
unconscious dancer and he was fine with that -- he knew he looked somewhat
silly, but he revelled in it. I write all of that in the past tense which is
eerie and unfair to him; he's still very much alive and still as joyful. I
just haven't seen him dance in a while.