: About Me

They say I was born in a hospital in Washington, D.C in 1950, but to be honest, I don't remember a thing about it. I could have been born in a swamp in Mudlick, Alabama for all I know. I guess I have to take their word for most of the events in my early life. My earliest memories are of me crawling around on the floor tasting dust balls that I found next to the baseboards.

I don't remember being particularly bright. I wet the bed until I was at least four. I'm sure some of my I.Q was hammered away at an early age as a result of frequent falls out of my bed onto my head. I also had a bad habit of falling back on my head in protest when my mother wouldn't let me get what I wanted in the grocery store. I couldn't tie my shoes until I was six and I still struggle with the concept.

After plus fifty years of struggling and poor eating habits, I've decided to corral my few remaining brain cells and express myself through writing. I believe I have a slightly different slant on life or maybe my left leg is slightly shorter than the other. Either way, I've decided I'm just as qualified as the next guy to bore my fellow man with my insights.

Well, those are the highlights of my Bio. I'll add some other stuff if anything important comes to mind. Oh, I almost forgot...when I was four or five, I liked to sneak downstairs at night, open the ice box(refrigerator) and drink condensed milk straight from the can. Man, that stuff was good.

About a picture?

Well, that wouldn't leave anything to the imagination. Isn't that what writing is all about? Let's just say that I used to be "tall, dark, and handsome". But, that was my own purely subjective viewpoint as I gazed at myself in my slightly skewed mirror forty years ago. I'm still six-one and a muscular 220 pounds. By today's standards, that converts to "short, fat, and grey". A picture would only tend to validate this more current, less than flattering objective viewpoint. Unlike mirrors, pictures don't lie.

Creative Writing > Reflections Reflections: Looking at the world through a car window

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She usually sat in the seat behind me when I drove. I could see her face when I looked in the rear-view mirror. Occasionally, I'd catch her glancing up at me through the mirror. There was always a moment when we'd make funny faces at each other and laugh. She'd felt comfortable and secure sitting behind her daddy since she was only a little girl in pigtails. She had an angel face that made me feel such pride when I'd look at her. She was daddy's little girl. Her two sisters were quite a bit younger and knew to sit in the space behind their mother where they would fight amongst themselves o...

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