I came screaming down the universe at birth, on September 21, 1973, at 9:30 in the morning, in Toronto, Ontario. And I was the most beautiful baby in the world.  According to my mum.  

The British Profumo scandals of the 1960's had left the name "Mandy" imprinted in my mum's mind - Mandy Rice-Davies being one of the hookers who made headlines around the world in that famous scandal -- and so I was named Mandy Jane, and everyone just hoped and prayed I would not grow up to be a hooker.  

By the age of four, I had already lived in three different Canadian cities -- Toronto (twice), Winnipeg and Montreal. After three years in Montreal, my dad was transferred to New York City and off we went - my mum, dad, older sister Dana, and me - to the Big Apple; the center of the universe.  I was almost 8 years old and ready for the big-time.

I adjusted to Manhattan like a duck to water, even though it meant a completely  different way of living. There are no backyards in Manhattan.  You don't just run out to ride your bike.  Bike riding is something you do with mum and dad, on Sunday, in Central Park. There are no trees to climb, no matter which neighbourhood you live in.  My world became The Hewitt School -- a private school for girls --  on 75th Street off Madison Avenue, in 2 back-to-back townhouses with a basketball court on the roof. Central Park was our school-yard. Playdates were "arranged" by parents and they happened indoors, or outdoors with a parent in attendance.  I remained at Hewitt until I graduated from 12th grade -- with one brief attempt at trying another alternative (more on that later).               continue