I was poker chip thrown out in a go for broke gambit dreamed up by a pair of smitten lovers in Oakland, California back in 1951. This left-coast-also-ran made a pretty good place to make an entrance. After school of which there was too much, not enough or it didn’t help I set out on the road to a storied carrier in show business.
I toured North America for decades. I lived for a piece of my life near the Grand Canyon, did another substantial chunk on seventeen acres south of Corvallis, Oregon. I’ve lived in the back of my truck, trailer, or sailboat almost longer than I’ve lived in a house. I’ve lived in San Francisco longer than any other place and never I am sad to say had coffee with Nancy Pelosi and Diane Feinstein—although I did snag an invite to the Brazilian Consulate where I danced into the dawning light with a bossa nova singing samba dancer I will never cease dreaming of. I started out with a circus before creating my one man show. In sight of Mills College I drafted my first novel on my Smith-Corona in 1980. In 2005 I dusted the beast of a first novel off —Highway Home— finishing the much revised tale in 2009 before the novel had revised me. My second, Pleasure Craft was done with greater speed and off my desk by 2011. The third Hot Spring Honeymoon was on offer by 2013. And I am glad you asked about the fourth. It is still in the garage, the novel is not working as planned. That’s not to say there is not merit, just not nearly enough. I am penning a new performing manuscript under the working title World Emergency Full Catastrophe Climate Change Comedy Show. And best of all between stints on stage juggling I’ll be offshore on my sailboat heading up and down the coast of California to while away a much deserved chunk of time exploring all that remains good and great about this Californian’s life.