Welcome to Mooseville

I know for a fact that the first individuals reading this already know me in some capacity. Our paths crossed in some fashion, and they accepted my invitation to embark on this endeavor of mine. If you are someone I’ve never interacted with or knows very little about me, thank you for joining me on this journey and take this as my personal introduction before getting to know me and seeing how I interact with the world as I perceive it.

But, how well do you really know someone? That’s a question that most of us skirt around in our lives. For example, when we start falling in love with someone else, we frequently say we want to know everything about that person—someone whom we wish to intricately integrate into our lives. But, while we want to know all the thoughts, moments, and stories that further endear those people to us, I suspect that deep down that we never really want to know everything. It’s likely we want to know as few as possible of the dark, shameful secrets, actions, thoughts and statements that belie the persona crafted for our benefit. Even though such elements actually helped create that individual with whom we find ourselves enamored, knowing those dramatic flaws may cause us to emotionally recoil. That lack of curiousity is deeply intertwined with the fear of rejection that causes our own extreme reluctance to share similar information about ourselves.

So, in our own ways and to varying degrees, we are all unreliable narrators of our personal lives. However, although I certainly won’t share anecdotes or thoughts that I wouldn’t dream of telling my wife, Sally, what I divulge will always be as close as possible to the truth as I understand it. That’s not to say that I won’t at times exaggerate or place undue emphasis on particular details for dramatic effect—after all, you can’t let the unvarnished truth get in the way of a good story. Nonetheless, I assure you that you will occasionally read something unflattering about myself in here, as everything I share here is autobiographical in nature. I don’t mind sharing some of that material since I truly believe that we all feel better when we read about someone else who has thought some of the same stupid shit or engaged in similarly moronic acts.

With that in mind, here’s a little more information about myself that’s helpful to know as I lead you down the road to Mooseville, give a tour of the attractions, and tell some of the tales from this locale.

I’m an agnostic, secular humanist. I came to this worldview through no small amount of trial and error. I was baptized Catholic as an infant, and after my parents separated, my dad attempted to raise me as a Nichiren Shoshu Buddhist. I rejected that faith while in my late teens, and a couple years thereafter I gave fundamentalist, evangelical Christianity my best college try. It failed. In the words of Dennis Miller, I lacked the ecclesiastical White Out necessary to maintain the faith. I’m not hostile towards religion—indeed, I am somewhat enamored with the solace that religion often provides for others—but I found I lack the psychological makeup necessary to accept something on simple faith.

Beyond that, I care a lot—because it’s a dirty job, but someone’s gotta do it. I’m a crunchy-granola liberal (borderline socialist, really) who holds many beliefs that dovetail remarkably with those of Crash Davis. During the day I work at a major defense contractor, and at night I try desperately to reconcile this with my ultra-liberal worldview. I don’t harbor a mean-spirited bone in my body, but much like Eva and her evil bone in Igor, I possess an angry bone that sometimes takes control. Yet, somewhat paradoxically, I easily succumb to an intense, almost phobic fear of confrontation.

Most importantly, I’m a dad. It’s the thing in life I cherish most, and I’m good at it. That’s not to say, however, that the challenge of having a high-functioning autistic son doesn’t get the better of me sometimes. While I certainly would have never chosen anything other than maintaining a full-time, daily presence in his life, there are occasions when I find myself nearly thankful for the respites made by possible by the joint custody agreement I have with his mother, whom I am on good terms with. This arrangement provides a reliable release valve for some of the frustrations that inevitably arise from parenthood. There is an additional silver lining to the arrangement: my second wife, Sally, and I actually enjoy a couple evenings each week to ourselves, without our kids (she also has children from her previous marriage and has a joint custody agreement with their father.)

Beyond that, every thing else constitutes mere details that I will weave into my personal version of the Bayeux Tapestry. It’s my determination to entertain you sufficiently to convince you to continue reading and prevent you from rejecting me either as a writer or, worse, as an individual—thus entering into a mutually beneficial relationship that both parties enjoy. Because I’m writing this introduction just as embark on this writing project, I can’t guarantee all the writing will be good, but I assure you that I will be giving it my best effort at all times.

So, thank you for choosing to taking a trip along the road to Mooseville. I hope you enjoy your stay.