Why am I writing this?

Writing isn't new to me. I began writing when I was a kid to avoid the drunken bully in my house - he called himself DAD. I always wrote about my feelings because no one ever listened to me. Flunked every English class I was ever in.

Computers aren't new to me. There've been days I've spent years at a computer, writing. Made and lost a business writing about other people's feelings. Made and lost a lot of friends, as well.

Then, I started getting old. I began to see the probability of my mortality. Simple things became important: like the smell of the air on a humid morning; like the sound of my wife giggling when I least expect it. Why did it take so long for me to notice that simple things take seconds to occur, and seconds add up to hours in a day, and days add up until I'm not going to have many days left?

A long time ago, I wrote, "I'd rather live a life worth writing about, then write about a life worth living." I think I've just about lived the best life a guy could expect to live. I hope I can share some of that life with you now.

Meet Beau ...

I forgot to tell you, I have a bunch of white dogs. They fill the seconds that tick away.

'BEAU'