Not Enough Room for Me in About Me!

This is what I would have written in "About Me" if there had been enough room.

Long ago, in a memory far far away, curled up in a knot known only to seven year olds in Grandma's ample pink petti point chair with Michaleangelo's picture book stretched across my horizons,I could lose my self among the portraits and statues of people from a distant land and far-away time. I think it was then that Renaissance people fascinated and inspired me.
Certainly, Michaelangelo was one of my heavies, but my first true bigger-than-life, "I-want-to-grow-up-to-be-just- like-that-person" hero from the time I was about six ( I found Grandma's picture book on him first), was Leonard (no, not DiCaprio) DaVinci (before they messed with his his code). He could do anything and did everything: invent, sketch, paint,sculpt, study the stars, and do math. I don't know if he played an instrument, or sung in the church choir, but if he did, I would imagine that he would play like a virtuoso and a Second Tenor.
By the time I was a Junior in High School, Leo had to play second fiddle to my second hero choice: King Solomon. He had the good sense to ask the Almighyty for wisdom! Go for the top, and God went over the top for Sol! He had it all!
At the same time in my life I read A Man Called Peter by Catherine Marshall LeSourde. Even though Peter Marshal died before I was born, I felt a kindred spirit with this robust Scotsman who's sermons were pure poetry in the ears of his bulging congregations.On several occasions I wrote to Catherine thanking her for her books that opened to me the life of a man not too far from my generation who lived and experienced the reality of God as a Savior and personal friend.Surpisingly, this
his man's life has shadowed mine in curious ways in that I have met people who are from his home in Scotland, attended the church where he preached, and even the former wife of the man who later married Chatherine.
By the time I was in college, Leo and Sol remained my best buddies and didn't seem to mind at all when I beatified Abraham Maslow as my patron Saint of Psychology! I wore black and mourned on the day he died, deeply disappointed that I never had the chance to meet the man. Not that I would know what to say to a fully actualized human being like Abe Maslow!
What "about me"? I'm no DiVinci, or Solomon, Rev. Dr. Marshall, or Maslow, but I have admired those who have sought to fully live their their God-given potential. A dear friend was describing to me another friend of hers who I had not the pleasure of meeting yet. She said of her friend, "She's a renaissance person, like you." Until that moment, I had never thought about it. I'm not into Goth, but in the sense of realizing all my God-given potential, I guess I am Renaissance...with one severe omission. I don't do math!
It has haunted me from the time I was in high school. I passed Algebra I and II in highschool, by the pity of the teacher. I barely passed Algebra in college with industrial strength tutoring, but I never LEARNED Algebra. No matter how many languages you study, how many artifacts you create, how many books you devour, you can't be a true Renaissance person until you mastered the universe of highschool algebra! HA!
So now, committed, absolutely, intrepidly, with sheer determination of a neanderthol against the mastedon, I am meeting math at pencil point! En garde, you phantom of past failure, you have met your doom! I can factor! HA!