Born in the United States in 1965, passing through Pasco, Washington’s Our Lady of Lourdes Hospital about 3 years, 1 month, and 11 days after Chuck Palahniuk, the (for now) much more famous writer of such works as Fight Club. My birth nearly corresponded with the 10 year anniversary of the death of Alva Mead Jackson, my maternal grandfather, who for a couple decades stood as the only police officer to be killed in the line of duty in any of the Tri-Cities (Pasco, Kennewick, and Richland).
As a teenager, I was a Boy Scout, a sax player, and a strategy and role-playing game nerd. As a young adult, I was a hitchhiker, Marine, journalist, and page designer. I spent my 30s recreating myself as a civil engineer. However, after the economic crisis of 2008, I’ve had to settle with being a writer again.
I’ve been married twice, the second time to a person I am considerably more happy with, and by whom I have a most wonderful daughter. If I have my way, my little one will surpass me in every positive way. I believe she has the potential to do just that, and with relative ease.
As her father, I am her scout, her explorer. Her mother is her role model (I’d not have it any other way – I sincerely admire the person I married second time around), but I am the one that will give her the ideas on what is possible, on where are the best places to go and be what she is supposed to be in this life. I am the one that will write the stories that hopefully encourage her to greatness. And find the people in her ancestry that best inspire pride in her when the inevitable setbacks come along.
Me personally, I may never be President of the United States, media mogul, or even designer or constructor of a railroad and tunnel between the United States and Russia, but while I’m still alive and still free to do so, I can write. And learn. And hopefully inspire. In these desperate times, perhaps that is my best remaining role.