My younger brother Jason and I were both originally from Alaska. When I was five years old and he was two, my Mom loaded us up into our 1965 International pickup camper "Bumpin' George" along with three standard poodles (Beau, Tilly and Fancy) and two guinea pigs (Ichi and Blossom), and we began the 3,700 mile journey down the treacherous Al-Can highway to our new home in Southern California.
Jason was only two at the time, but his gregarious nature was already clear. It seemed he could almost instantly befriend anyone – from rebellious, punked-out hipsters to soccer moms to conservative business types. When it came time to sell candy for school fund-raising activities – I would always hand over my goods to Jason. He was good at selling and far more outgoing than I was, and after about an hour he'd return home with an empty box, the cash envelope full, and stories of a bunch of new friends he'd made.











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