I was telling a friend tonight about where I am with my writing at the moment: the book, getting back into the swing of op-ed writing, what have you.  He asked me why am I writing at all: for fame and fortune or to get a message out that’s burning my bosom up from the inside.

I want a bit of all of that, to be honest.  After half a lifetime of battling demons, I still hope to find a little success as a writer.  It doesn’t have to be an awful lot of fame or acclaim.  That’s never been what this blog is about or anything else I’ve put my hand to for that matter.  I suppose if there is a gauge I’m going by, it’s that I wind up feeling like Dad would be proud of me.  He never gave up on me and I want to do ...