Eerily similar to the main character in The Invisibles, I was born in Dallas, Texas and my parents moved us to Fort Worth when I was a baby. We lived on the west side of town, until I started the 3rd grade and then we moved to the near south side – Rockridge Terrace.
Having the distinction as one of the first hippies in Fort Worth I was frighteningly similar to Beau in The Invisibles. I traveled extensively around the states, Canada and Mexico doing things I think the Statues of Limitations have run out on. One day I settled down, tried out a few colleges, but then went to work for my father’s business and became a successful typography craftsman.
Fort Worth Linotyping Co. (LINO) was the premiere typesetting company in the Southwest – second to none. There wasn’t another type house that could touch our quality but sadly we suffered the same fate as the horse drawn buggy upon the advent of the automobile – the Apple MacIntosh arrived on the scene. My chosen profession disappeared.
I was fortunate enough to meet my future wife at LINO. I have four wonderful children who have grown up to be incredible adults; with grandchildren, I am a lucky man.
When LINO closed its doors, I moved to the Midwest and for a few years worked as a Print Production Manager. In 2001, several employees, including myself, were shown the door. I tried different jobs: For a year I delivered Schwan’s products; I worked three months at Sam’s Club in the Marketing & Advertising Department; I spent a year working for the best employer ever (my sister, Patti), creating computer generated parts pics of the AWACS. When the military contract ended, I was out of a job, again.
My mother-in-law in Topeka, a wonderful woman by the name of Laura Anderson, was a loan officer for Super Chief Credit Union. She told me I should be a banker. So, I became a banker. It was easy. In a year I was a branch manager for one of the largest banks in the United States, but I left and went to work for Capitol Federal Savings. Working as a banker was my least favorite occupation. At CapFed my supervisors were some of the worst people I have ever met in my life with the exception of Barbara Carswell, Liz Barranco and John Dicus.
I retired early and as I went through some personal paperwork at home, I found a handwritten manuscript I had penned while attending college at North Texas State University.
It was dreadful.
I knew I could do better, so I took a long forgotten, pot-induced comment from my friend John Shirkey and turned it into a book.
My book would not have been possible without the help of some incredible people who read the first chapter or so and gave me great feedback:
My daughter, Cherri; my sons, Che, Dustin and Jordan; my sister, Julie; my sister-in-law, Sadie; my friends, Randy Wills, Barry Goldblatt, Bruce Horn; and my best friend, Ron Gabioud.