I am the youngest of FIVE. Do you know what that means? It means my older siblings are all regretting times they teased me growing up–because now I have a pen in hand and I’m telling stories!

On a more serious note, I really credit my mom and dad, whom we’ve lost–Dad many years ago, gone way too soon, and Mom just recently after a very long and full life–with passing on to us all, their children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren, the gift of story. Every family gathering is filled with stories: Do you remember that time …?

C 1969FamPortraitAnd we do. We remember. We have much to be grateful for. And we have much to reflect on.

I enjoy telling short stories of those days gone by, and even some from more recent times–in sum they are the Story of Me.

Click here if you’re brave enough to poke around in my wiring. You’ll meet my siblings in some of these stories. They’re the ones who would warn you–be kind to your little brother. He just may become a writer when he grows up.