At the age of six or eight, I liked to play with toy soldiers. World War II was raging in Europe and the far East, so I tried to…
An excerpt from “Hand on the Shoulder: Finding freedom in the confluence of love and career.”
In those days, Orange was a railroad town, a dangerous little town. Two tracks, one owned by Southern Railways and the other by the Chesapeake…
Introduction to my book in process. (Yes, it is real.)
Like many people, I always wanted to write a book, but also like most of them, never got around to it or thought perhaps my life was too dull to be interesting to others. Yes, there are many business…
I blink, trying to see through my steamed-up glasses. I’d stop to wipe them, but my hands are full of towels and massage oil. I’ll just find my way to the sauna. I stumble against the bench chair. Its occupant mutters something in German, not angrily I hope.
He stares at my passport while I shift from side to side on thin soled business shoes. The light is dim. Other than the gooseneck lamp beside his left arm, one lonely bulb swings on a cord behind my back, between me and the twelve people sitting against the wall, waiting their turn.
