My 1st print book now exists. What a strange way to put it. I've always enjoyed writing, even when I was a kid and it wasn't cool . Honestly, I never thought I'd do anything with it. It was just another outlet for all of the ideas banging around in my head. For decades, a lot of these thoughts became songs. Now I've returned to the simplicity of words. I write because I enjoy telling stories - pretty much the same with songwriting. The only difference is that now I don't have to go on a stage or into a recording studio. There I days I miss both, but who knows...maybe one day I'll do it all again. Writers write for different reasons. Some for acclaim or notoriety. Some for profit. Same as with music, painting, sculpting, acting - I think those goals are a matter of seeking validation. But for what? Doing what you enjoy is validation enough. For years I've written this blog. In some ways, it's the perfect medium for me. I do it, it's done, published, ...
My dad was difficult. I can't say we ever had a great relationship, but not for lack of trying. We saw in each other the parts of ourselves we didn't like - or just didn't know how to handle. Contrary to popular myth, dad wasn't a saint. He could be a sonofabitch. His own mother, who loved him dearly, would tell you the same thing. She often just didn't understand him. Sure, he saved a lot of people's lives, and kept many more going well past their sell-by date - but he wasn't a saint. Really, none of us are. My dad was short-tempered. He could be violent. He was a typical only child and product of his time. He grew up in a very working-class household and strived for what he considered a better life. How that translated to moving to Steubenville, OH I'll never understand. Actually, I do - but that's a conversation for a different time. As it's Father's Day, allow me to focus on dad's good side. He could never be accused of not being ha...