I grew up in Southeast Missouri. It was a simple time of three TV channels, flirting with girls, and avoiding the Johnnie Lawman while trying to get someone to buy you a bottle of Boones Farm.

Tired of flipping burgers and college, I headed to the Big City (St. Louis) and joined the US Coast Guard. Coasties otherwise known as Uncle Sam’s Confused Group have a long history of providing refuge for disgruntled youth that want three hots and a cot without sleeping in the mud and getting shot at on the regular. 

After loafing there for a little over 30 years I ended up as a Chief Warrant Officer ship’s engineer on a series of ice-breaking tugs. However, my dear old Uncle Sam rudely sent me packing and I found myself adrift.

My wife soon told me to find something to do and stop bothering her. I decided I had been depriving the reading public of my wit and talent long enough and so I started writing.

She would appreciate it if you encouraged me to continue. It keeps me out of her hair and lessens the chance I will wander into random bars.