About Me

Writer, Podcast host, director, creator, audio drama enthusiast…
The most memorable day in the 1st grade was when Mrs Goto handed out smalll manilla colored journals with “JOURNAL” emblazoned across the front in the most beautiful shade of blue.
“For 30 minutes a day, you may write whatever you like in this journal. No one will ever read it. It is your alone.”
To me, that little booklet full of blank pages might as well have been a bar of pure solid gold.
I wrote story after story. Filled line after line. Page after page.
I discovered a joy and a freedom I never knew possible. Yeah, I know. What does a 6 year old know about joy and freedom?
Somehow it sparked deep within me a passion, a love, a fulfilment little else in life could offer.
Then, one day, I walked into class early to find Mrs. Goto and Mrs. Camacho (the teacher’s aid) standing at my desk…flipping through my journal.
My journal. The journal for only my eyes. Only for me.
And they were laughing. Good laughing. Not mocking giggles, but laughs of enjoyment and pleasure.
Then, seeing me in the doorway, they shoved the book back in my desk, closed the lid, and walked away like nothing was happeding
And I loved it. They were reading what I wrote and enjoying it. Quite the experience for a 1st grader.
So, decades later, here I am. Writing.
This time for all to read…and hopefully enjoy.
Check out my projects and my blog if you like. Laugh, cry, sneer, guffaw, chucke, sniffle. Whatever you feel is fine with me. As long as you feel something.
Drop me a line. I’d love to hear from you.
Blogs for all to enjoy…
How Being a Creeper Brought Me Closer to My Kids
I don't usually like to focus on the weaknesses and shortcomings of others. I have plenty of my own to fill up these pages. And while that may be painful, if becoming vulnerable and stripping off the facade brings just a little encouragement to those struggling to...
What my Grandpa taught me about True Beauty
I was draped like a limp dish rag across our living room couch. "Just marinating", like a old friend of mine used to say. Letting the minutes tick by with nothing better to do. My Grandpa was living with us at the time. We were the only two home. He was probably in...
“After these messages…
Remember that little jingle from back in the day. Saturday morning cartoons were the best! I have been silent as a tomb here since before Thanksgiving. Unforgivable, I know. There are a myriad of reasons why. A few of which you can read over on Facebook. But I won't...
So who else loves being called Dad?
By today's standards, I was young. Some would say I was too young to get married at only 20 years old. It seems the average 20 year old today is still learning to lace his shoes correctly. Pile on the responsibility of marriage and most would probably run the other...
7 Simple Ways to Have Great Conversations With Your Kids
A month or so ago, I posted Six Reasons to Share More Meals Around Your Dining Room Table. I hope some of you have spent a few more dinners at home. If you have, share your experiences here or on Facebook. One of my goals for this blog is to have conversations with...
Autumn Treasures
"Look, daddy, look what we found." Suni and Jessie stood right beside me. Visibly thrilled about their newfound treasures. In one hand, Suni was holding a old beat-up Kleenex box. It was full of...something. Actually, it was full of a lot of somethings. The quick...
From a busy Mother’s heart…
VERY SPECIAL GUEST POST!! Vikki wrote the following for our church newsletter earlier this year. I loved it so much I told her I had to post it on the blog. She doesn't really care for the spotlight, but reluctantly agreed. So, here is my wife's debut blog post (and...
You are not rich, Daddy.
"Why do you have your pinkie like that? You are not rich, Daddy." Vikki teases me about it all the time. Jenna makes sure to remind me of my faulty floating finger--she is good at reminding me of my faults. I have to admit, yes, for reasons I don't fully comprehend,...
How to avoid Girly Middle-School Slapfests
Seventh grade was not a good year for me. I was the short kid. I was the chubby kid. My pants were either too long or too tight around the waist. (Wait, was that seventh grade or last week??) I suppose I was also dealing with some anger issues. [featured-image...
Let’s make something amazing together
