It was to awaken my consciousness that I left the theater in 1971. I also heard the call of adventure. My wife and I bought bicycles in Malaka Malaysia and planned to tour South East Asia with them. The touring, in various legs and by various means, lasted at least three years: we ended our journey in Vienna Austria and worked where we could: Vienna and Bangkok. My goal was to experience as much as I could. I intended to use it all later. But my interest in other things kept me from using most of it; and then I began helping people. The newly disabled, the developmental disabled, the mentally ill, the homeless, and children who were abused: when jobs working with these groups were offered me I took them. But they were more than jobs to me. I was interested in creating new approaches and programs. I saw need everywhere; transitioning homeless people in Tucson became my legacy; I developed my methodology for investigating child abuse with the hope that it would become the standard. But sometimes my effort seemed wasted, and in the end, from where I now sit, I’m not sure that I left anything of lasting value (which could be frustrating except now I have a new mission. For the past three years I have been busy trying to develop a community arts center named El Ojito Springs after the origin of Tucson.)
The scope of all of this has been wide, spanning a big portion of my life, but I have been so busy that I haven’t focused on my writing to the extent that I wanted. I’ve approached the various lives that I have lived with great passion and that seems to have been part of the problem and why I haven’t concentrated on my writing. If I had been less passionate, maybe I could’ve given more effort where I intended to. When I’ve approached other people with this lament, they generally have pointed to all I have accomplished and have shown little sympathy.