My name is Nicholas Webb and I was born on January 18, 1954. I grew up in the shadow of Disneyland in Anaheim, California, during the 1960s and 1970s. My dad, Harvey, and my mom, Louise, were almost 45 years older than me, which made for a different perspective on how to raise a child, since my other friends had much younger parents.

Mom wanted me to be raised Catholic because she was and her parents were born and raised in Italy and emigrated from there in 1899. Dad was raised in the heartland of America and was Protestant and his family emigrated from England in 1629. His personal belief and “religious” philosophy was, “Treat others the way you want to be treated.” Mom won, though, and I went to catechism. I was never baptized or confirmed a Catholic, but I went to a Catholic church with my friends.

I was an only child and felt a desire to have a sibling, but it never happened. I remember going out to play and not wanting to play by myself, so I would knock on the doors in my neighborhood, homes of my friends, looking for someone to play with.

Early on I realized that I looked a lot more like my Mom than my Dad, so undoubtedly, I felt like I was more Italian than American. My school friends were not as dark as I was, except for my Mexican friends. I played well with others and I liked having a lot of friends, which I did. School was fun and I did pretty well. I was a good student, but I seemed to always get in trouble for talking all the time. As an only child, I guess I was happy to be in the company of other children and so was chatty.

The summer of 1966 brought a surprise that would change my life forever. As I was filling out my paperwork to register for junior high school, there was a question I didn’t know the answer to. What is your city of birth?

I asked my parents and my Dad told me that I was from a little country across the ocean. Greece, he said. You were born in Athens, he added.