A Writer’s Journey: It Had To Start Somewhere

Dad leading me to the starting gate

This is my favorite photo of me and my dad. It was my first time competing on a racetrack—jeez, no helmet. How did any of us ever survive? Mom was behind the camera, like she almost always was.

IN THIS SPAN BETWEEN Mother’s Day and Father’s Day, I wanted to take time to celebrate my parents.

In large part, they are the source of so much that inspires me to write. George and Janice, two wildly independent beings who built a life and a family together. They instilled in me (and my siblings) a sense of adventure and the courage to take risks—sometimes not with the greatest of outcomes! But the bumps and bruises are what make the best stories, and I wouldn’t trade my scars for anything. So thanks, Mom and Dad. Your renegade spirits are sorely missed.

Caught out in the rain

Mom with her horse, Maggie.

Dad leading his string of pack animals while friend Gary scopes out the bottom of the ravine. I can say first hand that these high-mountian trails can be terrifying.

Catch of the day

Mom with a string of fish

Dad on his appalossa, Frosty.

Yes, this is me

My dad hung a bucking barrel from the barn rafters so that I could practice. It was such a kind thing for him to do—taking time out of his busy day to do something for one of his kids.

Me again

This is another instance of Mom behind the camera. Like my dad, she worked full time and still found the energy to be at every rodeo and riding event. In fact, most of the time she competed right alongside us.

One final picture of my dad on his horse, Julie. He used to say it was a funny thing: his horses seemed to get better as he got older. He was an amazing horseman and horse trainer, and I think my mom captured his essense perfectly in this photo.

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