That I would write a memoir using my essays and columns as a backbone to my life is fitting I think. I am amazed by my personal self-examination of thought and gratified by what I wrote then, and have written now. Regarding words, I regret none, but know a few have punched my ticket to hell. It is with hope and fervent prayer that those will be edited by a kinder heart of a greater being and overwritten by the goodness of the other words.
In the beginning of the book I describe the moments after climbing a mountain in Montana, and standing at the edge of the cliff I had just climbed up and over. The view was made more spectacular because of the effort it took to get there. I made it because I didn’t give up and I had help.
This book is finished because I didn’t give up and I had help.