One of the few stories my mother told about her life in Vienna was that her cousin Stella had been sent to see Sigmund Freud in the hope that her limp, resistant to traditional treatments or diagnoses, would prove to be psychosomatic (it didn't). The more I read about Freud, the more I think he was a regular guy, brilliant, but a schmoozer rather than a snob. Nevertheless, I
Freud’s Butcher
A blog about Genealogy, Psychology, and Meat