I spent the pandemic year writing a novel, Jack’s Gift. Now, firecrackers started exploding in my brain, searing synapses, and leaving stale, hollow echoes of thought behind.

To keep my body from falling into serious disrepair, I work with a trainer twice a week…

Does living a life of adventure demand climbing mountains, sailing oceans, swimming a channel, orbiting in space, or other risks to life and limb?

The weather’s not softly mild like spring nor crisp cold like winter. Today is between seasons. Like the weather, I’m between seasons, adrift in a foggy space…

In January, I fell into a rabbit hole, a narrow well, with no way out of the mess at the bottom.

I’ve always believed in democracy, even with its messy and snail-like progress. That happens when people have a say in how they are governed.