Walk with Intention

Note: This was originally posted on November 19th as part of Sreejit Poole’s inspiring series on walking with intention. If you have some time, I encourage you to read some of these stories.


When Sreejit Poole first suggested that I participate in this fascinating series, I declined. I eventually agreed, but I was concerned that I would have very little to offer on this subject. I’ve never considered that I walk with intention, but I have always known, generally, where I was going.

When I was a young child in Sunday School, we had to study Memory Verses each week. One that I remember was Corinthians 5:7 – “For we walk by faith, not by sight.” It sounded like one of those platitudes that would be hard to apply when I stepped out of the church, but I think that was because I was too young to understand it and too distracted by my own thoughts to listen to the teacher’s explanation. Still, it seemed a curious notion, to walk by faith, and I have never forgotten that verse. Later, when I was about 12 years old, my father helped put that verse in perspective.

Pittsburgh supplier of meat and cheese and lots of other good food and the ship to CT.

Pittsburgh supplier of meat and cheese and lots of other good food and they ship to CT.

My father was going to visit a doctor, in downtown Pittsburgh, for a check-up. I had the day off from school so he decided to take me with him. We parked in a cheap lot in section of town known as “the strip district.” The area was, and remains, a warehouse district filled with eclectic stores. Today, the “strip” is a tourist destination. In the 60s, it was a scary place but my father wanted to stop at one of those stores on our way home. My mother had asked him to skip the store and park near the doctor’s office. My brother and I had been to this store before with him, but times had changed. Pittsburgh, like many cities in America, was experiencing growing civil unrest. We hadn’t yet had riots, but anxiety was in the air. I was frightened. After we left the car, I asked him if it was safe.

You might think that would have been the time for him to say: I would never put you in harm’s way” or “you’re always safe with me” or something fatherly and reassuring. That wasn’t his style. Instead, he said: “You’ll never be safe if you look like you’re scared. Wherever you are, walk like you belong there.”

My father dispersed wisdom in short bursts like that. Small things. Like the ‘given statements’ in a geometric proof, these things were offered as fact. Unquestioned and unquestionable. Other snippets of wisdom he put out there include:

If you can read, you can do anything.”

Whatever you decide to do, make sure you do it as best you can.”

And of course:

You’re no better and no worse than anyone else.”

He always put that last one in that order.

These excerpts from his core values served to guide me on the various paths that my career and social interaction would follow. Those Sunday School teachers and my paternal grandmother defined the spiritual guard rails at the edge of those paths. The paths were always wide enough for me to have choices, but never wide enough to get into trouble without the conscious realization that I had given up the right to ask “why me?

My father’s emphasis on reading was his way of promoting education. Promoting isn’t the right word, it was more like requiring. He wanted his two children to have the benefits of a better education than he had. The other tidbits were offered (also meaning required) because he also wanted us to deal well with any opportunity that education might provide.

Since those days of walking thorough a scary section of Pittsburgh at his side, his words have followed me into bars, arenas, restaurants, and meeting rooms. I’ve been in these venues as part of the wait staff, the general public as an invited guest. The combination of lessons I received while growing up have always remained with me.

Serving food to dinner guests at a fancy corporate retreat outside of Pittsburgh was, in many ways, no different than being served dinner after a business meeting in which I was a participant. Both situations required me to be comfortable in my own skin and to do the job I had been trusted to do well.

Walking into a sketchy bar in a questionable section of town, feels no more or less uncomfortable than walking into the lounge of a fancy hotel. In each setting, I want to earn the respect of person I sit next to. Besides, I was born in a questionable section of town.

I’ve learned that “to walk by faith” isn’t merely the fervent hope that God will protect me if I place myself in danger. To walk by faith requires an understanding of and the adherence to the tenets of that faith. Walking “as if I belong” doesn’t convey the right of intrusion, it compels me to try to understand the context of my environment. Being “no better and no worse” than others, reminds me that equality and respect start with me.

The boundaries those people established long ago define the “right thing” when I recall that we should always do the right thing. The right thing isn’t always the easy thing. The right thing isn’t always the thing that provides immediate gratification or the greatest long-term reward. I won’t tell you that I’ve always done the right thing. I have always tried. I have also failed often enough to learn that not doing the right thing has consequences beyond the immediate and on a scale that isn’t easily measured.

My father’s simple guidelines for getting through life keep me moving forward. The lessons that we should be guided by our faith in and our understanding of God’s word, keeps me from drifting too close to the side, or draws me back when I cross the line.

To walk by faith remains a goal for me. It’s not something I can point to and say “look at me as an example.” I am proud of the times I’ve been able to stay within those boundaries and I am grateful to the people whose lessons guide me to this day.

My grandmother was functionally illiterate, yet she successfully raised six children after her husband died in an accident at the beginning of the Depression. My father graduated from high school, fought in WWII and walked away from the mean streets where he grew up, with his head held high and the respect of everyone around him. I hope that when I get to the end of my journey, people will be able to say something similar about me.

Posted in Family, Inspiration, Perspective, Prompt, Religion | Tagged , , , , , | 16 Comments

A Night at the Opera

For the love of beer

The perfect place and beverage to share some casual conversation.

If we were having a beer, we would both be a little sad that Cheryl wasn’t behind the bar.

I hate breaking in a new bartender. I hope that Cheryl is just sick or something.”

Maybe we should hope for something less bad for Cheryl.”

Yeah, maybe she’s attending a funeral.”

OK, how about less bad in general. Maybe she’s attending a wedding.”

“You’ve never been to a wedding with my family. Trust me, you’d rather wish for a funeral.”

Here’s a couple of menus for you guys. My name is Trish. Can I start you with something to drink?

Hi Trish, I’ll have the house Cab, and he’ll have a Yuengling. You can start a tab. We’ll determine later who’s paying. I’m not sure we need the menus, unless he’s taking something home.”

You’re paying. I paid last time, and I have a fridge full of leftovers.”

One Cab and one Yuengling. Will there be anything else?

Yes, you can forget what I said about the food. The Deviled Egg appetizer looks great. We’ll have one of those.

Make that two of those.

Two deviled eggs?

Yes, two deviled eggs.”

And two hard boiled eggs.”

Hey guys, sorry I’m late. Trish was nice enough to cover for me. You OK back there sweetie?

Yeah, it’s been quiet. I got their wine and the beer, but I can’t find the food they ordered on the computer.”

Food? They never order food.”

They ordered two deviled eggs and two hard boiled eggs.”

Whaaa..? OK you clowns, why are you giving Trish a hard time?

What are you talking about?

Deviled eggs? Hard boiled eggs? Are you trying to be cute?

Well, my young friend was trying to be cute, but the deviled eggs look pretty good. Who doesn’t like deviled eggs?

Guys, we don’t have deviled eggs on the menu.”

Sure you do, right here.”

Ugh, Trish, where did you get these menus?

Over there next to the aprons, why?

Because they’re from three years ago. You can’t find the deviled eggs because we stopped selling them.”

Do we have hard boiled eggs?

Marx Brothers 1931

From the Library of Congress. Bottom to top, Zeppo, Groucho, Harpo & Chico

No, that joke is even older than the menus. It’s from a movie from before your mother was born.”

Sorry, I thought everyone was familiar with ‘A Night at the Opera

Why did you stop selling deviled eggs?

We were always running out and the customers got mad.

Wait, you stopped selling something because you couldn’t keep enough of it in stock? I can see the problem with that, I mean, all that money pouring in and everything.”

They have to be made the same day, and they take up a lot of room in the cooler. They were more trouble than they were worth.”

Why not just raise the price?

Deviled Eggs

Chery’s Deviled Eggs

Enough already, since you guys just got here, I’ll make you some deviled eggs.

You’ll make them?

It’s not that hard.”

Old family recipe?

As a matter of fact, I start with my mom’s recipe, but I jazz it up a notch. I’ll go get them started on the eggs.

What do you think she adds, tabasco?

Maybe Tequila.”

No, we would have seen her take the bottle back to the kitchen.”

You guys are like an old married couple, what are you going on about now?

We’re trying to guess your secret.”

You’ll know in about 30 seconds, but trust me, you’re going to love it.

Oh my, it’s bacon. You put bacon in your deviled eggs. Oh, these are amazing.”

Not one of your guesses?

No, we stink at guessing. Earlier we were trying to guess why you were late. Wedding? Funeral? Illness?

Actually, I was coming home from a friend’s house and I got stuck in traffic for almost an hour in Hartford.

On 84?

Yeah, that has to be the worst road in America.”

Close, I heard a story on NPR, the elevated section behind The Aetna is in the top-10 highway segments deserving to be torn down.”

The viaduct in the top-10? Way to go Hartford.


Yes, the ‘Aetna viaduct’, that’s what they call it.”

Why not a chicken?

“Cheryl, can I have another Cab? And pour another Yuengling for Groucho, since he’s paying.”

Well, the eggs are on the house.

No, he’s paying for everything. Two cabs, two Yuenglings, two deviled eggs and two hard boiled eggs.”

Make that three hard boiled eggs…hey, you already stuck me with the bill.”

A few notes: I loved watching Marx Brothers movies when I was growing up. A Night at the Opera was released 80 years ago this month. “Why a duck” is part of an absurd comedy routine featured in Coconuts, released in 1929.

If you haven’t been to Cheryl’s blog, please click on over and check out the story and the recipe behind those deviled eggs.

Finally, thanks to John at http://www.squeezehorns.com/ for the Harpo’s sound effect.

Posted in Blogging, Humor, If having a beer | Tagged , , , , , , , | 70 Comments

Thursday Doors–Come Ye Thankful People

St John's Episcopal Church

Everyone is welcome to enter these simple doors.

Somehow, I knew that with Thanksgiving always being celebrated on a Thursday, that my choice for Thursday Doors was going to be thankful. I knew it and yet, I couldn’t quite figure it out. Then, on Sunday morning, it hit me. Well, it was more of a she, and she didn’t hit me, she impressed me. I read Natalie’s beautiful post where she featured some of the final blooming flowers from her garden. She also talked about bringing flowers into her greenhouse so she would have flowers to view and tend to during the winter. That reminded me of the hymn mentioned in the title and that made me think of St. John’s Episcopal Church.

We were members of this church for a few years. The Anglican Church didn’t recognize Thanksgiving as a holy/holiday, but Father Peet liked to connect the dots between giving thanks, the things we had to be thankful for and He from whom those blessings flow. I need to be careful that I don’t get tangled up in another hymn. Anyway, Father Peet held a service in which we could bring the bread we were serving for Thanksgiving dinner and have it blessed.

We would place our bread in a large basket when we entered the church. The servers would bring the basket to the altar when they brought up the gifts of bread and wine, and Father Peet would bless the bread. The basket would contain everything from homemade loaves, to store-bought bread, to coffee cakes and desert breads and once included a tube of Poppin’ Fresh Crescent rolls – who doesn’t love those?

We were members of this church during a somewhat challenging period for the building. You may not be able to tell, but the siding on the buildings is vinyl. In the mid-1980s, both the church and the rectory had to be repaired and painted, and the congregation wanted to expand the community center. There wasn’t enough money to do all that work. As if often the case in small congregations, there wasn’t really enough money to do any of that work. The building committee recommended starting a fundraising campaign in order to raise money over a two-year period. To keep the contributions in an acceptable range, the decision was made to cover the buildings in vinyl siding, but to use period-specific siding and trim on the church and the rectory. The buildings look good, but the experience illustrates how hard it is to maintain these buildings.

If you’re not familiar with Natalie’s Sacred Touches blog, you might want to check it out. She has a wonderful way of tying together beautiful photos, some thoughtful words and a bit of scripture to help start your day with a moment of reflection.

Thursday Doors is inspired by Norm Frampton. You can visit the other doors and you are welcome to share your favorite doors with us. You have until Saturday at noon to tag your photo.

Happy Thanksgiving to the door followers in the United States. If you folks in other countries want to share in the traditions of this day, I’d recommending going straight for a slice of pie, topped with a generous amount of whipped cream.

Posted in Photography, Thursday Doors | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 58 Comments

I Didn’t Start the Fire

Almost ready for food.

Almost ready for food.

Oh wait, yes, I did, but it wasn’t intentional. Earlier this year, I promised to share this story. If it makes it to the blog, you should thank my editor for providing her services. This event may not yet be at the point hinted to by the expression: “someday we’ll look back and laugh at this.”

This story takes place at the last bastion of male supremacy, the grill. Early in our marriage, I didn’t want a gas grill. I wanted charcoal. I liked the flavor of charcoal, and charcoal lighter fluid. I also liked adding flavor from wood chips. I chose the perfect intersection of smokers and grills, The Weber. The Weber’s round construction and domed lid made it the idea grill, roaster and kinda-sorta-smoker. Depending on how I arranged the coals, I could cook over direct or indirect heat. I could leave cool spots for keeping stuff warm and created hot spots for searing. The arrangement I liked the best was the one used for roasting poultry.

The first step in roasting poultry was to arrange the briquettes in a circle along the outside edge of the grill. Once hot, I placed the bird in the center. The heat radiated up and around, aided by that wonderfully domed lid. If I wanted the smoky flavor, I simply added wood chips to the top of the coals. The grease dripped out through the vent holes in the bottom and was captured in an old tomato soup can for which there was a wire ring holder. The engineers at Weber had thought of everything.

The original 18” Weber was big enough for our small family’s grilling needs. When I wanted to serve more people, and a bigger bird, I had to step up to the 22” grill. In the mid-80s, I was ready for the big grill and the big bird. The biggest and most important bird of the year, the Thanksgiving Day turkey. I was also ready to bask in the compliments of the big(ger) crowd. Our family unit of three and two grandmothers. I wasn’t ready for the weather.

It rained.

I was doomed. There wasn’t enough room in the oven for a turkey to be cooking alongside the other dishes, bread and pies. Also, since the Weber cooks a bird much faster than an oven, we didn’t have enough time for Plan-B once the skies opened. I quickly began work on Plan-C. I draped a maple tree in plastic, and managed to keep the rain off the grill. My first turkey day turkey added anxiety to the afternoon, but was otherwise successful.

The following year, I checked the weather in advance. No plastic seemed necessary, but I had some just in case. I had charcoal. I had everything I needed, except… a large enough grill. It seems we had purchased a slightly larger turkey, and that critical domed lid didn’t fit.

Undeterred, I quickly fashioned an extension layer between the grill and the lid. Using heavy-duty aluminum foil, I built up the edge of the grill by about an inch. Also, to keep the edges of the bird from burning, I set the turkey on the grill on a sheet of the same foil. Little did I know that I was sowing the seeds of disaster.

A roasting turkey produces way more grease than a chicken. The aforementioned foil under the bird prevented the grease from draining. I folded up the sides of the foil to contain the grease and I borrowed my wife’s baster, the antique Pyrex one we had found at a tag sale. Every so often, I visited the bird, sucked up some grease and squirted it into a soup can.

On what would become my last visit to the grill, I noticed that there was a small grease fire, in the coals at the edge of the bird. I quickly sucked some fuel grease, from the pool that had formed under the turkey, into the baster. Then, for reasons unknown, I poked the baster through the foil. The grease poured into the superheated airspace under the turkey and erupted into a fireball. Also for reasons unknown, I squeezed the Genuine Rubber ball on the baster, atomizing and spraying hot grease into the turkey / conflagration. The fire traveled back along the stream (or was sucked in, I’m not sure), creating a minor explosion inside the baster. Nothing significant, but the baster would never baste again.

The turkey was fully involved.

Tukey fire.

Back in the 80s, there were no camera phones. If there had been, and if I had stopped to take pictures of the fire, I might not be here to write this.

I salvaged enough tough dry meat from under the layers of ash to give everyone a portion. Most everyone felt sorry enough for me to choke it down. I didn’t light the grill again on Thanksgiving for over 20 years.

By the way, in case the title got that Billy Joel song stuck in your head, here ya go.

Posted in Family, Humor | Tagged , , , , , | 79 Comments

Back Where I Come From

socs-badge-2015Linda is away this week, but Helen Espinosa, a friend of SoCS has given us a prompt as challenging as Linda might have done on her own:

“Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is: “to/too/two.” Use one, use them all, but most of all, just have fun!”

Helen didn’t mention any extra points for using all three forms, but I’m going to assume that a proper accounting will be made. Anyway, let’s see where those struggling voices in my head want to go with this.

Remember the scene in The Wizard of Oz when, after his mea culpa, the Wizard started handing out brains and hearts and whatnot? I always liked the part where the Wizard says:

Back where I come from there are men who do nothing all day but good deeds. They are called phila… er, phila… er, yes, er, Good Deed Doers.”

I was reminded of that this week, albeit in a curious way.

I was trying to get credit in a rewards program for activity that seemed to have slipped into a dark corner of the accounting department. Maybe my activity happened near month-end, I’m not sure, but I paid the bill and I should be granted the points. Apparently, it can take up to 10 days, so I waited. 11 days later, I visited the company’s website and I filled out the form to get credit for missing activity. That seemed simple enough. I jotted down all the relevant details and I uploaded a copy of my invoice.

Nothing happened.

I was instructed to wait 10 – 14 (more) days.

Waiting. Ooh, that reminds me of another great movie scene, the one in Ocean’s Eleven where twin brothers are staging a drag race between a monster truck and a model of the truck. Waiting for his brother to go first, the brother in the real truck says:

I’m going to get out of the car and drop you like Third Period French.”

Anyway, back to where I was, which was waiting for 12 more (23 in total) days, I went back to the website to see what my other options were. It seems that since I waited the requisite amount of time, I was now entitled to speak to a human being. Actually, I could have spoken to a human earlier, but being one of the geeks who builds web-based things, I trust the system more than I should have. I say that, because the human being I spoke to said:

Oh, when you submit an issue via the website, it just goes into a pile. If you want things to be reviewed quickly, you need to call so you can send the information to the attention of someone specific.”

Well, back where I come from, see, you thought there wasn’t going to be a connection, we treat web-based requests differently. We have people who do nothing all day but answer these questions. OK, that’s not true. We don’t get enough questions to keep anyone busy, but we do treat them all as if they were going to a real person. Because they are. Sure, you can call our office and talk to a human, but if you submit a request for information via our website, your request goes to a real live person, immediately.

Of course, the real live person that it goes to is based on what you say your request is related to. So, if you’re looking for information about an invoice and you select “Engineering” for the subject, things may take a bit longer. Giving an engineer an invoice is like, as one former engineer once said, giving a monkey a hand grenade…the odds of it ending well are not great.

My point, yes, I do have one, is that if you are going to try to add value / save money by having web-based or otherwise automated points of contact, treat the people who take advantage of those points of contact with respect.

By the way, lest you think that my “this / that” option above is curious, the motivation for putting customer contact in the hands of a machine is usually to save money. Money that the company behind the curtain of automation is unlikely to pass back onto you, the customer. Home Depot isn’t going to lower the cost of that two-by-four just because you twisted your back trying to scan the barcode, located at the other end of your cart, at the self-checkout. They might reduce the hours of the person standing lonely at the next counter, but they’re going to keep that savings. It goes in the same jar as the money they save when you picked the two-by-four and when you carry it out to your car. I’m sure their accountants don’t really keep money in jars, except maybe at month-end.

One thing is certain, if there are accountants and jars involved, there will be two jars. One for debits and one for credits, don’t you know. You won’t get anywhere with an accountant just because you give money to Home Depot in exchange for a two-by-four. No, you have to take the money from somewhere and put it somewhere. You can take money from “Cash” and put it toward “Construction Expense,” but you can’t just say “I gave Home Depot money and I’d like to be reimbursed.” Pbbbbft, no, uh uh, that would be too easy.

Posted in Customer Service, Humor, Prompt, SoCS | Tagged , , , , | 56 Comments

Thursday Doors–Walk to Javits


Always a good source for doors.

Last week, I was in New York for a company meeting. Since we were going down on Wednesday for dinner, I decided to go a few hours early, to visit the exhibit hall of a conference being held at the Javits Center. It had been raining earlier in the day, but by the time we got to our hotel, the rain had stopped, leaving a dull gray overcast day behind. I love to walk, so I decided to walk from our hotel on Lexington Ave. to the Javits. Always thinking about Thursday Doors, (I mean, that’s what we do isn’t it?) I thought I would just snap pictures of the doors I spied along the way.

New York is always changing. Buildings, including their doors, are being built, being torn down, being renovated, being cleaned, being ignored and being visited. The other thing about New York, is no one seems to care if you stop to take a picture of a door. Even a crummy door. They probably just looked at me taking a picture of a service entrance and thought “tourist.” Yeah, I know, it’s New York, there was probably an expletive before the word “tourist” but I can handle it.

So, I didn’t go out of my way to get the perfect door photos. What you see in the gallery is pretty much what I saw as I weaved my way from 50th and Lexington to 38th and 10th Avenue.

I continued to take photos after leaving the Javits Center, but I’ll share those doors another day. Today, let’s just take a walk. Most of the doors are described in the gallery, but I have to point out one. The door inside the Javits Center, where they are building a Starbucks made me think of this scene from a Simpson’s episode. Take a look, I think you will understand.

As always on Thursday, this post is part of Norm Frampton’s fun series called Thursday Doors. You can see all the doors being shared this week visiting Norm’s page and heading over to the linky thing. I usually add that in this post after I find it. You can also add your own door, and Norm makes it easy ‘cuz you can add Thursday Doors up until noon on Saturday.

Posted in History, Photography, Prompt, Thursday Doors | Tagged , , , | 66 Comments

His Revenge

Are you looking for a nice fresh thriller to read? Do you know someone who loves reading a fast moving, well considered, keep-you-flippin-pages-long-after-you-should-have-turned-off-the-lamp book? If you answered yes to either question, then you should pay attention to the announcement below.

Earlier this year, I purchased “My GRL”, John W. Howell’s first novel. It sounded like the kind of novel I like to read, and I had been enjoying John’s writing style for quite some time. My GRL did not disappoint. I enjoyed every page. When John mentioned that there were going to be more books in the series, I made a mental note: “buy his next book.”

I know that many of you who read my blog also read John’s blog. If you’re like me, you follow the crazy adventures delivered every Wednesday, including the dysfunctional family where John has yet to produce a character we can like. You know the feeling. You look in your inbox Wednesday morning and you smile at the sight of “Wednesday – Story Day – AKA Hump Day” on the subject line. Well, if you want the real deal, the extended version, a great story, then follow one of the links below and get yourself a copy of “His Revenge” – Seriously, this is a good idea. 

Announcing His Revenge by John W. Howell is now available in paper and ebook on Amazon and KDP Select

His Revenge

The sequel to My GRL titled His Revenge is available and a new story continues where My GRL left off. This book is near the top of my reading list

His Revenge is available in the US in Paper and Kindle editions
In Canada in Paper and Kindle editions
In the UK in Paper and Kindle editions

A Little Bit About the Book:

America loves John Cannon, its newest hero, and the President wants to present him with the highest civilian medal for bravery for saving the Annapolis midshipman from a terrorist plot to destroy them. While in Washington for the award ceremony, John unwillingly becomes an accomplice in another plan by the same group to attack the credibility of the US President and the stability of the worldwide oil market. There is no way out as John either becomes a traitor to America or causes thousands of innocent people to die if he refuses.

The second John J Cannon Thriller moves from a barrier Island off the coast of Texas to Washington DC, then to Northern California, and finally to Ecuador. John is on the receiving end of an offer he cannot, refuse. His avowed enemy Matt Jacobs now wants John to help him shake the reputation of the US in the world political arena and disrupt confidence in the government at home. If John refuses, Matt plans to murder innocent Americans including John’s latest relationship. John’s only way out is to pretend to go along with the plan and hope for a miracle.

Excerpt from Chapter one

The water rushes over my head. I’m sinking and don’t know why. With my breath held, I have trouble stopping the air from escaping since the pressure drives the air up and out. I try to keep my mouth closed, but the water pressure pushes the air out more and more. Will I pass out? In the distance, the light is dim. To rise to the surface in time might not be possible─I need to breathe right now. Toward ending the pain in my chest, my rambling mind rationalizes taking a deep breath—even knowing it will end my life. In conflict with the irrational thought of ending it, my body won’t let me suck in the water, as it fights to retain the little bit of oxygen left to fuel my brain.

The despair is nearly overwhelming, and my mind considers other ways to battle the feeling. What more could I have done with my life? The pressure becomes more intense, and I’m about to lose it all, and I decide I’ve lived the way I wanted and have no regrets. I close my eyes and hear only the roar of the sea. I’m so tired. Exhausted. Sleep will fix everything, and I want to give in

About the author

John W. Howell

Photo by Tim Burdick

John’s main interests are reading and writing. He turned to writing as a full-time occupation after an extensive career in business. John writes fictional short stories and novels as well as a blog at http://www.johnwhowell.com. John lives on a barrier island in the Gulf of Mexico off the coast of south Texas with his wife and spoiled rescue pets. He can be reached at his e-mail johnhowell.wave@gmail.com, Facebook https://www.facebook.com/john.howell.98229241or Twitter at @HowellWave



John’s first book and one of my favorite reads of 2015.

His first novel, My GRL is available on Amazon and wherever e-books are sold.

Posted in Promotion, Writing | Tagged , , , , , , , | 40 Comments