9/11 was a pivotal time in my life. My first book, The Bullfrog Does Not Imagine New Towns, was coming out in October. I had co-founded and ran a philanthropic research business that stewarded high-impact giving through intentional donor networks. I also volunteered to teach creative writing classes at Phillips School in Laurel, Maryland, which specializes in serving students with learning and emotional disabilities. On September 11, 2001, I had a meeting to discuss being acquired by a larger entity – every entrepreneur’s dream – at the World Trade Center, North Tower, 81st Floor, 10:00 am.
My contact called the afternoon of September 10 to tell me he had to reschedule the meeting to the 12th. The next day, I, my family, my team, and the world watched in horror as the Twin Towers fell. Living in the Washington, D.C., region, my mind went to friends with loved ones who worked at the Pentagon. With roots in Pennsylvania, my heart could hardly hold the brave souls who died in a corn field in a collective act to save others. The firm and my potential investor did not survive that tragic day. 911’s ripple effect led to many other crashes: my business, the economy, and the social fabric of our nation.
This crossroads led me to my current career. I continued to volunteer at Phillips and realized I loved teaching in that environment. A few years later, I was accepted into DC Teaching Fellows, which led me to my first paid teaching job. Amidon-Bowen Elementary School, a Title I, underperforming school in Washington, D.C., is the setting for my forthcoming book with Pact Press: Music in the Halls. I was a General Education/Special Education teacher and served as part-time head of Special Education, where I advocated for early interventions and created school/family/community partnerships. I also coached in a year-round after-school sports program.
I am currently head of the English Department and AP English teacher at the Regional Institute for Children and Adolescents (RICA) in Rockville, Maryland. RICA is a community-based, public, residential, clinical, and educational facility serving children and teens with severe emotional disabilities.
My mom used to say about me that there were three seasons of the year: baseball, basketball, and football. Growing up, I was good athlete. I also was one of those boys who gave teachers trouble – too much energy. I couldn’t sit still. I was intelligent enough, writing my first book of poetry in elementary school thanks to a gifted teacher, but I was defiant. It gets old being told something is wrong with you. After a lousy 9th grade, my parents sent me to a military school for one year. That shaped me up pretty fast. I learned to the play the game.
I did make it into college, where I met the woman I would marry, and to graduate school in Folklore and Linguistics at the University of Arizona. I became immersed in the creative expression of cultures throughout the world. Ever since, I have been riding the waves of discernment about the role of an individual with agency within the systemic forces they do not see, let alone understand.
I’ve worn many hats and lived a life filled with adventures, risks, failures, learning, growth, love, and generous friends and colleagues. I am grateful for those who walk side-by-side. If there is a thread – from winning basketball championships as a player and coach, to running a small business, to creating a safe place for children and teens to explore the world through imagination and writing, it’s that to see and be seen for who we are is the essence of relationship and caring. I am inspired by people who overcome obstacles – children, teens, and adults – and those with infinite curiosity to help remove obstacles so others can thrive.
This year, I celebrate thirty-eight years of marriage to my wife, spiritual guide, and editor, Kathy. We have three amazing adult children and a sprightly grandchild who are the light of our lives.
