March 16, 1932 (76 Years Old)

United States Of America

Fort Gratiot, MI

I grew up during the depression years in a small lumber town named Westwood in lassen County, California.  I was surrounded by many aunts and uncles there and had scads of cousins.  At home, school or out in the woods, I was never alone.  I've been fortunate to have a close family and to live in a small town.  Wherever I went and whoever I was with, an aunt or an uncle was almost always within eyesight to make certain that I abided by the rules of behavior expected of a growing boy.  I now have a large family of my own; having raised nine children, who have generated twenty four wonderful and amazing grandkids – almost all of whom share my love of nature.  I suspect that I’ve purposely sought out such places to work, live and play, during my life because nature's bounty has been appealing and rewarding.

Grant Union High School and Technical College, Del Paso Heights, CA     Sacramento State College, Sacramento, CA     University of Arizona, Tucson, AZ    Foreign Service Institute, Arlington VA   

My daily goals are to gradually edit the five remaining novels I've written, preparing them for publication and developing other interesting and attractive story lines that have historical impact and a potential for becoming the “Great American Novel.”

Another long-time goal, which continues to elude me, is to somehow become proficient with the Personal Computer.  I hope to develop a working level of competence on the computer so that I can place my novels, short stories, essays, poetry and music before a constantly changing and growing international audience.  Despite having used computers for almost forty years, hardly a day passes without being surprised by how little I actually know about them.  I’ve been told by my children that I have a deep, irrational fear of computers ... and that all of my computers, through the years, have known it.  But, in my own defense, I've had these treacherous machines go bad in a single heartbeat … losing all recorded memory.  I once had one disappear into a glowing cloud of hissing, sizzling, spark-spewing smoke ... nothing left of it but ashes, melted insulation and charred framework.  The only reason I persist is because the publishing industry has become entirely computerized with "on demand" printing of novels.  Music and recording are now almost entirely digital; and I continue to record my songs on an old eight track, tape recorder ... as far into "high tech" as I've been able go.  Meanwhile, squatting like a monstrous, threatening, sentinal frog, squarely between my writing and a public that is largely unaware that I exist, is an advertising world that also has gone high tech . . . and the technical world continues to change because they know they somehow must continue to remain beyond my reach,  Somehow I must accomplish this goal ... I just must.

I'm still thinking . . .