Blog

When my wife Cynthia and I first met, I had just found a place to live in a hemlock pine forest of northeast Pennsylvania. The owner, a great guy named Ron Benjamin, had called it [...]

Wyoming is big. So big you could hike for three hours, as I did today, and not see a single house. Or car. Or paved road. Or person. So big that it has the lowest [...]

When I was little, my older cousin Cheryl called me the Professor. As in, “How ’ya doin’, professuh?” Always with a smile, and always with love. Why “Professor”? I was a very good student, and [...]

That’s what my father used to call me. He was American (his ancestors were English, Irish, and Dutch), and my mother is Italian. At 17, she was lured from her beautiful homeland by the handsome [...]

This neighborhood of Pozzuoli, Italy, is my ancestral home (the neighborhood where my mamma grew up), as well as the setting of my novel. It’s an odd place, beset by bradyseisms, a phenomenon by which [...]

I’ve been in a really good mood lately. Things are going well. I’m happily married to a bright, sexy, appealingly sarcastic human being named Cynthia; both my beautiful kids live either at, or just across [...]