Heaven is a House Author Info

Author info is boring but necessary. I am mindful you are not here for me. You're here for the stories. I am simply eye-candy.

My sense is the "why?" is more interesting than the "who?". Still, if you are so inclined, "Who" information may be found here or here.

Regarding the "why?" question, please find below a bit of the background.

Heaven is a House of Many Doors is filled with over 100 stories. These stories share the experiences of childhood in the 60s, teen years in 70s, an awakening following many drunk and utterly stoned years, the wonder of realizing at 19 years old I am not stupid as I was told for the entirety of my life, the beauty and stress of fatherhood, and a broken and haphazard response to loss on 9/11.

9/11 savaged our family. The 9/11 stories offer a touchstone. We all remember where we were on September 11th, our personal emotional response, our sense of loss, and our shared resolve. My hope is discussions will start from this shared touchstone.

The 9/11 stories deliver behind the veil details. They're not all pleasant, for I am not all pleasant. Visits to still-burning ground zero, surging anger, efforts to join the military so I might unleash generationally bred violence, Guantanamo Bay trial participation, the discovery of empathy, and donations to 9/11 prisoners responsible for the death of my father and many of his friends.

As a bit of background, I was raised on the sharp knee of violence.

Anger is a language I speak. Yet, anger fails my 9/11 recovery. As familiar fury fails, I discover trauma - whether inflicted by family, stranger, or terrorist - provides a choice between past’s pain and present’s promise. Choosing present, I agree to pre-trial interviews with 9/11 prosecutors. In exchange, my name is entered into a lottery promising an invitation to attend GTMO legal proceedings.

Lucky me.

Traveling to Cuba, I deliver two suitcases packed with 70 great works of fiction and one nonfiction book to killers. Returning to GTMO with my daughter, our suitcases are stuffed with art supplies. Thereafter, I donate pallets of art supplies to prisoners and guards alike. The donations are not for them; they're for me. So I might have a sense of agency in a world filled with grief.

In an effort to blunt the swell of grief, I stumble upon active empathy.

Empathetic actions form a key to the door leading to heaven on earth.

This is a door worth sharing.