I was born in the South on a summer day in July. I spent my early years in North Carolina and enjoying the sweltering heat of the summer and the frigid depths of our 70 degree winters. My family taught me the two most important lessons of life which are how to laugh and how to love. I went to public schools where I had a teacher that danced in class, a principal that danced on tables and friends who put dead possums in water fountains. Upon matriculation, I succeeded in attending about every university or college in the south east because I could not figure out which one I liked the best and for some reason they expected you to go to these things called classes, which I always seemed to miss. I loved and hated religion and was a member of countless congregations from North Carolina to Mississippi but settled on none. I started traveling to Florida on a weekly basis and fell in love. I joined the Gator Nation and listened to Bubba the Love Sponge, Power Pig Hello, but then was sent to a foreign land where Yankee dust piles up high during something that they called winter and learned the true definition of the phrase hell has frozen over, and like some before me I was held prisoner of war in Chicago. I was one of the lucky ones and I got weekend reprieves to come home and visit with the understanding that I would return at the beginning of the new week and I did for years. I finally returned to Thomasville on a full time basis when I figured out that the best direction you can travel on I 65 was south. Heaven rejoiced as I reconnected my Southern roots. I took various jobs from selling books, managing this or that to making furniture. I have even built a web site or two along the way and managed to write a few books. The best occupation I ever had though was when I had no occupation at all and was free to enjoy the simple things in life that usually get overlooked. That is when you begin to wonder how you ever really had time for a job in the first place because there is so much to do. I have realized that no matter what job I have it does not define me, and I am content to sit at Beggars Tomb (yes, it is a real place) surrounded by my dogs, my books, dabbling in photography, enjoying nature, wondering what Susann is making for supper (hopefully not fried or the sawbones will squawk), and where the biggest crisis of my day is that the ice cubes in my vodka and cranberry melt too fast.