Who I am is irrelevant. What I am writing and why is all that is of import. I have not devoted myself to writing since I was a young man. I can recall a literature professor who once told me I reminded her of Emily Dickinson: not for the eloquence of my poetry or prose, but for the fact I was as the one most likely to die with many volumes of neatly hand bound unread works, never shared with another, stashed in my desk drawer. She was right in her assessment of me, but technology has changed the game. Emily had good cause for her reservations, the work she reserved would not have been publishable or well received politically or socially. The world has changed a lot since then, and now with my children grown I feel I can, at last, write. Single parenting and writing could never co-exist for me as I require solitude and silence to write. My intent is twofold; first to illuminate numerous issues which clog our society and impede our growth both as a nation and a species, and second to create a portfolio of my work for my children and grandchildren which will outlast my frame. I thank you for the effort you have made to read my work and hope you find it helpful. D.N.B.