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This was the writings I loved 40 years go. Don't ry to make too much sense from them. I ran a cross a box of words in the attic.

I've always wanted to know what it felt like..so I did it.

Just wondering what Heaven will be like without angst.

Just a story of the road, where I would write, then bury what I'd written in the earth near where it was written.

For one day I was treated like a "real" writer. I was a phoney, but a fun phoney.

A short story of the experience our family had after adopting a 16 year old black inner-city kid. What we both learned.

That summer and eight year old boy taught us all what a Champion really is.

I've been thinking of the endless of poets and writers, our brothers and sisters, whose burden bonds us.

When I die, will it be my Word, or my Ash that lasts.

Sue and I have been married 36 years. This is was one of those early incidents young couples try to hide.