I’m a married, 63-year-old father of five, living in Northern California.

I’ve lived in a lot of places—Colorado, California, Texas, Calgary, and a few spots in between—but mostly I live in my head. I spent a career in consulting, mostly trying to solve problems that weren’t clearly defined with people I probably didn’t deserve to work alongside. Along the way, I learned a few things: how to ask better questions, get ideas from other people, and how to make people laugh. Usually.

In the past few years, I’ve started trading PowerPoints for backroads. Most recently, I rode a single-wheeled electric unicycle across the country. (Yes, voluntarily.) I did it to meet people, to listen, to think, and to figure out what the heck I'm supposed to do with this next chapter. Along the way, I got bumped by a car, got saved by search and rescue., found distant cousins, and was fed by strangers who had far less than I did but offered far more than I expected.

I’ve been blessed in more ways than I deserve—and tested more than I expected. I’m a kidney donor and a widower, two things that taught me about letting go and holding on at the same time. These days, I’m trying to be useful without being in the way. I write stories, and occasionally pretend I know what I'm doing.

Mostly, I’m just trying to stay curious, stay kind, and find new ways to connect—whether it’s over a cup of gas station coffee or on a ride through small-town America.