The fat man who was<br >and told jokes in the dining hall， the hi<br >chasing my father on the golf course， d~<br >sibility that we would have a house ot<br >looking through the thick overgrowth<br >club， excursions to Lake Geneva and tt<br >ing which we actually were permitted tc<br >speedboats instead of gazing wistfully<br >laikes， the early and middle 1930s<br >childhood and the matrix of my life.<br > There were some unpleasant memc<br >outdoor toilets， the death during the<br >Twin Lakes friend (tonsil infection， IC<br >the day that my father， weary， worn a~<br >Lakes to tell my mother his business<br > the advancing Great Depression. Sore<br > never quite the same after that.<br > The images which had surfaced wt<br > me the age-regression technique of sell<br > of my brain for weeks thereafter. 1<br > hypnotic exercises， then in ordinary<br > the whole world of Twin Lakes in the<br > benignly， vividly， overwhelmingly in<br > not that I was unaware of the Corn<br > Club s role in my life before Erika hac<br > ing her design a questionnaire for a，<br > techniques of self-hypnosis in psycho~<br > offered to teach me the technique). In<br > oh" I wrote for Gregory Baum s book<br > the early 1970s， I mentioned the T~<br > John Kotre in his "intellectual biograt<br > Lakes experience in my life. The h~<br > ever， revealed to me the critical influ<br > on my imagination.<br ><br ><br >