I was a blonde-eyed, blue-haired boy, born and raised in a brown world - brown skin, brown eyes, brown hills, adobe walls.  The trajectory of my path through life began in postwar Santa Fe and has meandered through Texas, New York, California and the Pacific Northwest.  My family settled in the Northern NM territory long before statehood and I spent my youth afoot in its hills, arroyos, and forests. Its essence is in my blood and bones. In exile, I surround myself with the color of adobe, the aroma of pinon, the image of Guadalupe. No matter where I roam, my home is on the plateau, and it draws me back, inexorably toward the spot from which I came.  

Educated in Philosophy & The Classics, I took the only logical professional path and became a TV executive.  A decade later, after the exorcism, I turned to the leadership of large, nonprofit cultural institutions.  I've never been sorry.   I write because I can neither sing nor paint the narrative of the world I see.  I have written since I could hold a pencil. I write whatever and whenever I can, looking forward to the day when writing occupies me fully.  Never a word escapes my lips that I do not long to recall and improve upon.