This freedom is the most powerful memory for me. Starting when I was 5 years old, I was wandering alone in the streets, parks, gullies, and hills of Seattle and Boise, pretending to be an indigenous explorer in the pre-colonial era. My parents had no idea where I was, which was fine as long as I came home before dark.

As an adolescent, my friends and I ran amok in large office buildings, playing a wild version of elevator tag, or turning the state capitol building into a raucous playground until we were chased out. We snuck into school gymnasiums, followed fire trucks for miles on our bikes, and made prank phone calls.

My parents threw parties with live jazz bands, and I would let all the drunk dancers give me “just one sip” of wine from each glass until I was dizzy. Most adults sounded like Charlie Brown’s teacher to me.

School felt like a prison of repetition, and I often abruptly got up and walked out. I forged my mom’s signature on permission slips, but after awhile teachers just stopped asking. I always returned to class for tests, so that I wouldn’t need to repeat anything.

I think kids had more latitude back then, because we occupied a space of insignificance. I felt largely invisible in the world, so I could push boundaries without consequence.