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Kathy
I’m a vintage flower child turned criminal defense lawyer. My undergrad major was English and my minor was Philosophy. I chose law hoping that a career as an attorney would give me a chance to mess around in both of those areas while changing the world at the same time. To my great delight, that has proven to be more true than not. I am fascinated by what it is to be human. My job as an assistant appellate defender gives me frequent opportunities to contemplate that.

 My money gig is not all that I do. I’m a voracious reader with wide-ranging tastes (favorite novel remains, possibly for sentimental reasons, The Magic Mountain by Thomas Mann). I’m also particularly fond of Loren Eisley. I write mediocre poetry and, when motivated, can churn out high grade purple prose and propaganda. I make collages. I toy with sundry percussion instruments, my PVC didgeridoo and my alto recorder. I’m a clumsy but enthusiastic freeform dancer. I’m a fitness fanatic. I run 6.3 miles every other morning and cross-train on the off days with as many sit-ups, push-ups, and face exercises (they work!) as I can stand to do. I am always trying to increase the weirdness of the appearance of our home. Last but not least, I co-incite the many activities listed on this web site.

 My preferences include Cheezits, Butterfingers and cheap red wine, midwestern autumns, and almost any form of entertainment in which I get to be a player rather than an audience member. I love doing homemade theater and making homemade music. I like watching others do the same. I avoid slick commercial entertainment and have not watched TV for years. I will begrudgingly spend a few hours a month watching movies, but they have to be quite special, meaning either intelligent (My Dinner With Andre) or far-out (Chappaqua, Grey Gardens). I pay attention to politics. I prefer socialists to democrats and anarchists of the peaceable, personally responsible, green variety to socialists. I prefer a night out in the city to a day nature hike in the forest and I would sooner clean the bathroom bowl with my tongue than camp. I wear a lot of feathers and beads and my idea of makeup is glitter.

 My very favorite thing is sharing visions and experiences with self-invented others. I value intimacy, deep connection and community over all other aspects of life. In short, I really like the company of other people.

 I turned 51 in February, 2003. I have two children who are now adults, thank goodness. I was raised Unitarian Universalist, but I’m recovering well. I joyfully drive a little red sports car with a trunk way too small for a full load of groceries or home maintenance supplies.

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Robin
I grew up reading Jack Kerouac, listening to Billy Graham and attending a Catholic seminary to prepare for the priesthood. As incongruous as all that seems to me now, it made some kind of sense at the time. Kerouac was a magical maverick, writing about a world that was as diametrically opposed to my Republican suburban surroundings as possible—the Beat Generation vs. Glen Ellyn, IL. Bishop Fulton Sheen could not meet the standard set by Billy Graham for raw charismatic power—even though Billy was forbidden to me as a Catholic and especially as a seminarian. But why the priesthood? In the 50s there was a Catholic state-within-a-state, with its own schools, hospitals and welfare services. Catholic priests enjoyed fellowship, security, and social prestige. Becoming a priest would solve my rather severe social awkwardness problem and lead to a position of almost royalty—not really having to have a real job.

I eventually realized that I was on the wrong path. Then I realized I was in the wrong religion. I looked quickly at other Christian religions, then at Zen Buddhism, and, for a while settled on His Holiness Maharishi Mahesh Yogi and Transcendental Meditation. That was my last attempt to utilize religion in any serious way.

I was born the same year as Jim Morrison and two years after Bob Dylan. I would have thought I’d have made a grand Pied Piper for the flower children, but I was taken somewhat by surprise by the hippie thing. I had expected the Beats, Beat Generation and finally the Beatniks to be the future path. In my perception, the hippies were a non sequitur of sorts. Kerouac certainly thought so, but unlike him, I was delighted by what was unfolding in the 60s. My interest, however, in no way positioned me in the lead.

I moved from reading Kerouac and Ginsberg and toward Abbie Hoffman and the antics of Jerry Rubin in the media. I went to rock festivals, smoked dope and grew my hair to elbow length. About the time of the trial of the “Chicago 7,” I started noticing something called the “human potential movement.” Abraham Maslow, Carl Rogers and Rollo May are credited by some as being the creators of this phenomena (and let's not forget the likes of Fritz Perls at Esalen.) My awareness was more colloquial than that–local encounter groups, T-group experiences at a community college and the Chicago/Milwaukee TORI Community weekends loosely following the theories of Dr. Jack Gibb and his “Trust Level Theory.” I facilitated encounter groups and massage workshops in the Chicago area. For recreation, I sometimes spent weekends at “Naked City” and “Ponderosa Sun Club”–local nudist resorts. I started a commune in 1980, long after the hippie fad of group living was over. In 1985 I started a second one. Both were in suburban settings and each lasted about 5 years, included multiple sex partnering and experimentation into various aspects of small group dynamics.

Around 1991 I withdrew from my group participation to reflect, yet again, on the meaning of life and where I was, at the age of 48. I had formed 5 major relationships, including 2 marriages and 3 live-together situations, and a multitude of short-term/casual relationships with both men & women–mostly women. I was weary of communes as a lifestyle without truly deep connection. I was discouraged that I had been unsuccessful at forming deep connection with any other individual under any circumstances. This was all relative, of course. I think I had formed a few conventionally deep relationships, but I kept asking, “Is that all there is?” As I was about to conclude that maybe it was, I met Kathy. I realize now that the lack of really deep connection was nobody's fault–I just hadn't met anyone with a mind/personality anywhere near similar to my own.

Kathy and I have together explored the depths we are aware of in human relationships. We have speculated that there is more to go, but we may have to invent/discover what that might be. We are looking for neither teachers nor students–we are inviting people to co-invent/co-discover where human relationships can go–the real New Frontier.

I am fascinated with the vision of what creative types can now do with readily available digital video equipment. I would love to combine the quest for relationship depth with the already successful conversation salon and create a documentary of it all!