There is only one type of story in the world. Your story. — Ray Bradbury, Zen and the Art of Writing
I was born on 4 February 1959 in Lennox Hill Hospital in Manhattan. I was christened Kevin Michael Lynch. My mother’s parents were Irish immigrants. My grandfather was born just outside of Tullamore in County Offaly. I was told my grandmother was also from Offaly (though my grandparents met and married in New York), but I’ve not been able to verify that yet. I know little about my father but am told he was of Polish and German extraction.
Being single at the time of my birth, my mother fostered me with an Italian/Polish family in Dobbs Ferry, a small commuter village on the banks of the Hudson River about 20 miles north of New York City. I was raised by both my mother and my foster family until my mother died when I was ten. After that, I remained living with my foster family.
While my mother was alive, I grew up between her home in Yonkers and my foster family’s home in Dobbs Ferry and I spent a good deal of the summer at my mother’s sisters summer house in Long Beach on Long Island.
I attended school in Dobbs Ferry, graduating from Dobbs Ferry High School in 1977.
In the summer before I graduated, I attended the Catholic University of America’s summer Spanish language course in Valencia, Spain. I was one of only two high-school-aged students in the programme. The rest were college students and Spanish language teachers. My foster sister generously covered the expenses and I reckon that summer planted seeds for decisions I made much later in life.