I grew up in a captivating little town in Minnesota, eked out a diploma at Macalester College (intellectually challenging for me to say the least), and then traded the comfy attire of a tennis teaching-pro for a zoot suit in the banking world for some 35 years (what was I thinking?). I am now retired, living a most gifted lifestyle in Morrison, Colorado.
Looking back, I now label myself as a professional survivalist. I have come to realize that I am somewhat obsessed with how I managed to engage the Grim Reaper so often without suffering the untimely fate of a premature lifetime checkout. Most people have no idea how many truly close calls I have had. And—in the bizarre wonderment of my twilight years—I have suddenly felt motivated to tell these tales for both their entertainment value and to help answer some questions related to how these kinds of events can affect one’s very being and entire life. Where do we draw the line between pure luck, fate, and an undetermined destiny? Through my diverse recollections, I speak across generations and weigh in on how to both cope with and get the most out of life (oftentimes just randomly thrown at you) at least until some sixty-plus-year-old epiphany finally reveals itself.
In recent years, I have taken up a unique sculpting media, which I label as “scrap metal impressionism.” I use this artistic means to liberate my creative side while, ironically, I totally embrace the game of golf to test and control the “get real” aspect of my existence. My love and family passions are wrapped up with my wife, Carol (who took too many decades to find), and my daughter Kellie’s clan, which blessed me with a most special grandchild named Piper Jean.
