I was a lucky kid. My parents, Leo and Betty, are salt-of-the-earth heroes who taught me, along with my older siblings, Patti and Gary, and younger ones, Dave and Shawn, that love is the purpose of human existence. Our parents were meant to be together. On leave from the Merchant Marine, Dad met Mom at a dance. She was being accosted by two guys when Dad, convinced they were bothering her, stepped in between and told them, “She’s my girl.” And, from then on, she was. Fulfilling a longtime dream, Dad sought and bought “the perfect spot”–which he found by climbing a tree while on a hike–to build a house and raise a family. That spot was located on a hill overlooking Lakes Cadillac and Mitchell with all kinds of wilderness to explore. It is no wonder we all grew up with an unquenchable love of nature, or that we are bound by a mutual love of sunsets. I’ll never forget the last time watching one with Dad. We were sipping our 7-7s while overlooking the dunes of New Smyrna Beach when I offered him a heartfelt toast of gratitude for a remarkable childhood. There is nothing like sharing tears of joy.

I am a lucky old man (70 years and counting). A Daoist, husband, father, grandfather, and retired professor, I recently survived a series of serious health issues. As a result, I’ve done a lot of self-reflection and decided to use this website as a means to explore and express who I am, some things I’ve done, what matters to me, and to promote my books. Admittedly, this involves some self-aggrandizing as well as soul-searching. As I put it in Confessions of a Basketball Junkie, “Sorry about all the “I’s”; but what can a first-person narrator do if not shake daily characters in hopes of finding slices of self that potentially ripple? Not to dramatize things, but being an idea in progress, sitting in the living room with Strawberry Fields on Spotify, I ask Ulli if she knows what I mean. She glances quizzically at me from the other couch and asks, ‘What about the self? You sure you want to start a page like that?’ I’m not sure what she’s getting at because she’s on Facebook and not really paying attention to me; so, aware of what is secondary, I catch her eyes and tell her, you know I know when it’s a dream. ‘We’ are not confined by the parameters of our skin; consciousness is not ours—at least, not ours alone. It comes from somewhere else, long before you and me: we have always shared the same Self. Dictionaries are at least partly right, a narrator gives ‘an account of events,’ but when you think about it, January is an event, so is a garden, and a paragraph.” If you believe Alan Watts, the entire universe is a single event. Or, in Erwin Schrödinger’s words, “The total number of minds in the universe is one. In fact, consciousness is a singularity phasing within all beings.”

My story begins on April 1, 1954, in Cadillac, Michigan. Yes, I am an April Fool, and, as my wife, kids, and grandkids will tell you, I happily embrace the fool archetype, especially when it comes to nonconformity. I owe a lot to Dad and Mom. More than anyone else I know Dad embodies the hard-working and selfless father archetype—belly laugh and all—that inspires all who had the fortune to know him. He emboldened me to dream, to seek excellence, and to persevere. Besides, if I didn’t start working at basketball camps as a counselor at age 15, I knew I would have to continue to trim, bail, and load Christmas trees for him. I learned patience and the power of tenderness from Mom.

I love my Dad. He is the proverbial one-of-a-kind. He, Mom, Ulli, and I spent a lot of vacation time playing Pinnacle. The most memorable vacation was when, after they watched Ulli dance ballet in Nurnberg and me play basketball in Munich, we went on a Greek cruise. Whether drinking Weizenbier in a Schwabing pub, listening to Greek folk music at an outside restaurant in Plaka, or sitting around a table on the ship deck, we would make bids as if there were no tomorrow. Especially Dad. He was the ultimate gambler. Born and raised with his brother John on a farm, he started his own washed sand and gravel business with a single dump truck, which he expanded into an excavating and landscaping business. He never stopped taking risks or talking to people. He loved listening to people’s stories, and he sure could tell them. Though I rarely cry, I teared up during the funeral in Big Fish because my Dad is Edward Bloom incarnate. Anyway, our cruise took us to five islands and the coast of Turkey. Though we hit most of the standard temples and museums, we went where we wanted. I’ll never forget the windy afternoon at Poseidon’s temple, when Dad, who’s extremely afraid of heights, leaned over the cliff’s ledge where the legendary Aegeus leaped to his death because he thought the Minotaur had killed his son. Leo loved to defy fear and limitations.

Dad lived the American Dream. His work ethic and faith in opportunity led to his venture into Christmas trees, whereby he could passionately cultivate the earth and bring joy into thousands of living rooms. He also made a good living, and not only taught us “the value of a dollar,” but also instilled in us that, with inspiration and perspiration, a good life is there for the making. Impacted by FDR’s New Deal, Dad was a lifelong Democrat and remained eternally convinced that everyone—from all walks of life—deserves a fair shake and a second chance. Like Dad, I feel blessed to be born and raised in the United States, a melting pot of so many cultures and a bastion of freedom, hope, and opportunity. He chose to serve in the Merchant Marine, and my sister Patti made us all copies of letters he wrote his parents while he was on his cargo ship in 1943 and 44. Most of the themes centered around the farm and agriculture, like when to rotate crops, what to plant where, and when to harvest. He briefly described a few of the places they docked but wrote very little about the war. He did mention being chased by a German submarine one long and dreadful night, and how lucky they were not getting torpedoed. Though he was on the beach of Normandy on D-Day, he never discussed it in his letters or in person. I remember watching Saving Private Ryan with him on a cold winter night in Cadillac while Ulli, the kids, and I were on Christmas vacation. I sensed him tense up during the graphic, 27-minute battle scene on the beach and understood why many veterans underwent counseling after seeing the film. We were alone and I made a couple comments on the way out and asked a couple questions in the ice-cold Jeep, but it wasn’t until the truck was warm and we were almost home that he finally said, “War is hell.”

Dad loved life and was happiest when spending time with family. We lost him to cancer and my sister Patti to heart disease years ago. The rest of us were fortunate to be bedside with them as they passed. We also lost my sister-in-law Paula to cancer. We carry on their legacies every day. The following poem comes from Confessions of a Basketball Junkie:

Dave and I spent our childhood together shooting hoops, hiking, biking, playing with friends, and constantly spilling our identities into one another. He owns and expanded Dad’s excavating business and is a golfer and drummer. His kind and loving wife Paula served as a grade-school teacher for nearly 20 years before succumbing to cancer way too early. They have two daughters, two sons, and three grandkids. Lindsay is a patent paralegal, loves rock concerts, and has lived in Alexandria since 2008. Laura works for Dave and lives with her life and skiing partner Ryan in a quaint home in the wilderness. A chemist and political pundit (whose perspectives I share), Andrew married his high-school sweetheart Emily and together brought Jack Lando into the world. Matthew, a slam-dunking hoopster, married Christina with whom he collaborated in the creation of Carter and Finley. Dave and I are blessed and aware that the lines between us are relative to whatever childhood means.

My baby sister Shawn is a passionate, fun-loving soul who reminds me every time we’re together life is a hallowed collection of moments. She married Steve, a builder of movie sets in and around New Orleans. He has a daughter Cristen from a previous marriage. Shawn is the mother of Ryan and Rachel from a previous marriage. Ryan, who works for his Dad’s construction business in Las Vegas, married Krista and together they have three boys–Hunter, Waylan, and Hank (they love their country music). Rachel has four children–Saydee, Baylee, Gracie, and Leo. They live in Slidell, not far from Steve and Shawn, and Chris and Mom. Every visit is a unique experience filled with all kinds of energy and solitude, activity and peace, and unconditional love.

Besides having a close-knit family, I have many friends–old and new, from childhood, high school, college, Iceland, Germany, Michigan, Maine, Florida, and places in between. I love my friends:

I could go on about my family and friends but I do that elsewhere on this site and in my books. So, to add some stuff “about me,” let me share a few of the things I love to do. I love going to the beach:

I love hiking, biking, and canoeing:

I love traveling:

I love playing piano:

I love playing tennis, golf, and shooting hoops:

I love good food and libations:

I love and can never get enough of nature. Here are a few shots close to home:

I love books, music, and movies. For instance…

I guess if were to sum up who I am, I would start with Bernie Sanders. I wish he was president. I do not like Donald Trump. I believe all religions serve as spiritual guides to living a life filled with love, grace, and forgiveness. It’s the institutionalization that gets in the way. The same is true for the way science and technology are used to promote progress at all costs. Truth is out there; I believe; you believe; but truth is not value-free. No matter how you feel about or organize it, truth only counts if you accept the invitation to the dance and embrace life’s manifold being as your own. I believe we share a heritage with everything from spinning atoms and swimming cells to sea urchins and the living biosphere. By relocating the cradle of intelligence from the human brain to planetary mindfulness, we are more apt to think and act not as separate entities, but as part of Earth’s body and mind. Besides creating a new interface with nature, we would naturally care for all species and life-giving forces.

I am aware of the troubles facing the United States today. Though it is, in my opinion, the greatest nation in the world, it was built, like many countries and empires, on self-serving religious decrees that support manifest destiny, “white man’s burden,” and colonialism. Consider the Native Americans, black slaves, and Chinese railroad workers who suffered during the founding of our country. I am also aware there can be no healing without confronting the problems. I’m not saying I have the answers, but militarism, the desecration of rights, and economic monopolies, like guns, bombs, book banning, and torture, will never offer a lasting resolution to anything. Only love abides.

So why is any of this important? If you ask me, it’s because people are people, share similar flaws, and naturally need balance. I hope that one day humans will be vegetarian, if not vegan; that Jews, Christians, and Muslims will see their religions as complementary while respecting the beliefs of Hindus, Buddhists, and Daoists; that violence will be sublimated through art and recreational activities; and that we will unite goals of science and religion in the process of discovering nature’s lessons of connectedness and equilibrium. I hope we will learn to trust the living cosmos and understand that energy is neither created nor destroyed, but simply changes form, and this understanding will redirect our anxiety regarding an individual afterlife into communally redeeming acts that sustain the world’s multifarious species. I believe we are meant to evolve, to see ever clearer that we share a journey blessed by forces that guide nature.