A snippet from the new book I am writing…entitled ….Kidnapping the Future….

I had not intended to become an old man. Somehow it had just sneaked up on me, and now I was older than my father ever was, when I first started referring to him as old. I think I was in the eighth grade and just a mere 13 when I first thought of him as an old man. That memory makes me laugh, because I know that he was only 35 at the time. He and I, and every old person I know, would pledge ourselves to ten years of back breaking, shovel digging hard labor, if we could be 35 again. That was so long ago. I still remember those days vividly though. The good years, they call them, and indeed they were. How can any of us forget the years of youth? Those good days when breath came forth from our soul. Hot and lusty lover’s breath in our ear. A quivering in our solar plexus. The intake of that youthful aroma, soft flesh, a lover’s touch so gently caressing, and yes…the smile, her smile, the doorway to heaven, my heaven.

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