I was born in a small town in Arkansas. I didn’t realize how good I had it until my parents decided to move just before I started high school. It wasn’t bad enough to be going to a new school in a new town, but they picked a place sandwiched between the major metropolitan areas of Weiner and Goober town; and no, I couldn’t make this stuff up if I wanted to. In an attempt to free myself from this place I learned to call home. I joined the Air Force.

Well, after a summer in San Antonio, I learned what Hell really was. Or at least I thought I had. The Air Force, in their infinite wisdom, decided I hadn’t been punished enough. Therefore, they arranged a little tour for me in Turkey. Now don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed my 25 months, 6 days, 13 hours, 5 minutes, and 16 seconds there, but the second that my plane passed out of Turkish air space I was drinking as many of those four dollar bottles of alcohol as the Stewardess would give me. (Thank you Lufthansa)!

Now I was back in the States with a ray of sunshine on my back. By ray, I mean one ray of sunshine. Welcome to Seattle in winter. To be honest, Seattle is one of the best places I have ever lived. Sure – you only see the sun 4 months a year, but for those 4 months you get it for 16 hours a day. Of course, now that the Air Force discovered I was some place I liked it was time for a change – Charleston, South Carolina. Great beaches, great golf courses, great scenery, Hurricane Hugo, 99.9999% Humidity. After two summers here I told the government it was time to part ways. I did get that GI bill, right? I was headed back to Arkansas. I finally found the great part of the Arkansas to get myself edumacated at the state’s prime school – The University of Arkansas.