I wrote this book for you; but it’s about me.

Sounds a tad narcissistic, doesn’t it? What gives me, a virtual nobody, the audacity to think my stories justify publication, much less, the valuable time and attention of a reader?

The answer is simple. Forget the monarchs and conquerors, the tabloid movie stars, the mythic movers and shakers who have so thoroughly trashed our planet. If there is decency in the world, if there is truly a venue where peace and love may thrive, if there is any semblance of a soul to the collective character of the human race it resides in the compassion, kindness and laugher of the small lives most of us live. If there is passion in this life, look to the eyes, sense the touch, know the trust of your lover. You don’t need to be Bradgelina to be hot. If there is laughter in this life, it is shared by you and your neighbor across the fence, your toiling peer in the next cubicle, the friend across the table at McDonalds.

Our stories, my friend, are as grand as Love. They are profound and integral components of Universal Consciousness. And, most significantly, they are as ordinary as a drive to the 7-11 for a large slurpee and a hotdog.

I’ll tell you my tales, my experiences and ideas. I’ll try to help you realize what I’ve come to believe: each of us matters on an unimaginably vast scale.

That includes you,

Dear Reader. You