About me

I was born in an Army hospital in the bustling metropolis of Seymour, Indiana okay,
 maybe not bustling, and maybe not a metropolis, but it did have an Army hospital,
which is where my story begins. At the time, my dad was a link training instructor,
which basically means he taught aspiring pilots how not to crash on the ground, in
simulators, thankfully everyone involved.

Military service ran in the family like a strong coffee addiction. I had uncles who served also.
 One of them fought the Japanese in the Philippines, actual jungle warfare, not the kind
where you just forget bug spray.  Two others were Marines in Korea, which was basically
the coldest, muddiest, most “please let me be somewhere else” war imaginable.

The joys of growing up in a house that could double as a walk-in freezer in the
winter and a sauna in the summer. Our humble abode was a two-bedroom shoebox
hastily assembled to shelter the workforce of the nearby bomber plant. The streets
in our neighborhood bore names inspired by aircraft parts, our address was on Stabilizer Drive. 

It was as if the city planners had a leftover parts list from
assembling a Martin Bomer and thought, Why not use these for street names?
The house& insulation was so ineffective that it seemed to invite the cold in for a
cup of tea. Our primary defense against the chill was a coal furnace, which
required the nightly ritual of banking the fire. This delicate art involved
arranging the coal just so, to keep the fire smoldering through the night without
turning the house into a kiln. My father was a master of this practice, ensuring we
didn’t wake up with icicles on our noses. 

Rent was a modest $30 per month, which,
even then, felt like a bargain, especially considering the added thrill of potential
frostbite. Despite its flaws, that little house on Stabilizer Drive was our launchpad,
propelling us through life& turbulence with a sense of humor and a whole lot of
coal dust.

Back in 1962, at good old Parkville High, the Senior Prom was basically the
Oscars of teenage life. If you didn’t go, you might as well have packed your bags
and moved to Siberia.
The problem was, I was about as good at asking girls out as a turtle is at pole
vaulting. Seriously, just thinking about it turned me into a human sprinkler sweat
everywhere, words nowhere. I had resigned myself to spending Prom night at 
home, probably reorganizing my record collection (again), when my buddy Charlie 
Herbst swooped in like some kind of teenage social worker. You HAVE to go,Charlie said, practically dragging me by my shirt. "You can take my little sister In 1966, the Vietnam War was just another topic bubbling away in the background,
hardly worth a second thought, right? I mean, who could possibly predict that one day I would be the unwilling star of that spectacular adventure?
My military experience gave me the confidence and ability to do more with my life
than any University class. I have run restaurants, been the Controller for several
companies, worked in the computer software field, and ran my own software
publishing company. I have also traveled to over 28 countries for business and
pleasure and worked in Volgograd Russia for seven years as a missionary.