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 When I was born, my parents lived in South Bend, Indiana. So did I. They
were both Dutch. So am I.
My father was an artist on the side and an artisan by trade. My mother
painted eyelashes on statues of the Virgin Mary. My oldest brother was
self taught and ended up running a major corporation's advertising
promotion department. The next older brother studied art and used it in
his own agency and such. My sister got my mother's artistic talents. Then
there was me. I am a drawer. Now I hear I might be a renderer. Renderer
might be better though because one brother said drawers go in bureaus.
I love to draw. I can't remember not loving to draw.
Around eleven years of age or so, I told my first story. I lied. I told my
cousins that I saw a neat show on TV the night before. It was a monster
movie, I said, about a giant worm. They loved the story, following along
attentively. When I finished, I told them I made it up. They said it was
real good. I moved on.
Around 18 or so, I told stories to my Air Force buddies. They said if I
could write them down, I could sell them. One or two best sellers in those
tales, they said. I made a mental note and moved on.
Around 25 I wrote down the stories I told my Air Force buddies. My English
Comp 101 professor wrote on my paper: "If you haven't considered a
major in English, you should." She wrote it in green ink. Mrs. Detlef,
I did it. I got a degree in English from Indiana University at South Bend.
1977 it was. I didn't want to, but I moved on.
Around 30 I rode a commuter charter bus from the south suburbs to downtown
Chicago. I would sit with Grace and tell my Moral Stories. People would
gather around and listen. If people were listening, then I knew it was
time. I sent my story to a New York publisher. The publishing house was
big. The story was funny. I liked it. People who read the manuscript
laughed. Some cried from laughing. I was sitting in my office 36 floors up
and the phone rang. An editor from the major NY publishing house was on
the line. They loved my writing style. They didn't like the subject
matter. She, this editor, wanted to know if I could write something else
that included sex, drugs and violence. I said yes. I did. Then I put it in
the attic and folded my writing tent. I moved on. So began The Lost Years
as we now call 'em.
Just around 40 on the plus side, I started writing again but oh so slowly.
My typewriter finally died. My primary supporter, Darlene, wife and mate,
gave me her old 486 computer. I cranked it up and played Hearts. I had no
idea how to use a computer and my brain was rusty so I didn't move on.
Just before 50 on the minus side, the most powerful forces in the world
began to work on me. Four women. My Darlene pointed at my studio and
said, "Get in there and write. Focus!" That was January. In
February, three women folk stopped me in the hall of Crestview Elementary.
Green, Magner, & Howell, oh my.
The trio had seen my art and heard my tales and said in one voice,
"Share your gift with the children. Write a children's book. Do a
picture book." I put one and three together and did what the Gang of
Four said: Andrew McGroundhog and His Shady Shadow was the first of my
picture books. The inspiration I received from this quartet continues
on in each succeeding picture book. I shall remember as I venture into the
Young Adult genre as well.
I am a Hoosier born and bred. During my life, I lived in or near the
following towns or cities, in order of my residing therein; South Bend,
San Antonio, Tacoma, Saigon, Kiyuna (okay, I'll give you this one. It is a
small town on Okinawa.) Wichita Falls, (the Texas one) then back to
Indiana: Penn Township, South Bend, Bremen, and Mishawaka, followed by
several Illinois residences in Park Forest South, Chicago, the Ukrainian Village in Chicago, the south side past 211th Street and then to
Indianapolis. I think we will move two more times. Once, when My Darlene
and I decide to retire and once more when they carry me out feet first.
That will be the final time I move on.
I try to find humor in most everything. Sometimes folks find that
annoying. Oh well. If you feel you want to know even more about me, you
can check the question and answers section. I try to answer questions from
folks but all in all it is more rambling. Still, there may be a flower in
that weed patch.
Thanks for coming by. Now, it is time to move on.
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