I was raised in small town rural Alabama by humble educators. My upbringing was highlighted by the stories my mother used to tell us on our front porch. Legends, folklore, and ghost stories became an ever-present part of my life. I just knew that the garden was full of fairies, shape shifters roamed the forests, and circus gypsies stole children in the night (I had seen them!). Magic was as good an explanation as any to quiet the questions from me and my six siblings and death was no fear of ours cause we had been cleansed in the cool waters as the river washed our sins away.

As I grew older, and the magic faded, it became apparent that it was time for me to gain a higher education for making a living like the rest of us. I did what was expected of me and joined a University in the South of Mississippi. I tried on the shoes of a college man for a couple of years before deciding there was too much to learn to be stuck in an institution. I packed up what little I had and headed out to witness the mysteries of my country. I rambled through the South and into the deserts of the Southwest exploring the Indian Reservations and the culture of cowboys. I wrangled horses for room and board for a spell before heading to the mountains to wrestle the rivers of Colorado. I got so caught up in the taming of the rapids that I lost track of time. Next thing I know, snow had blocked the mountain pass and to beat all, the rivers froze right over. So there I was, trapped in the icy belly of the Rockies. Left with no other choice, I holed up in the valley, making a living keeping the fires stoked for the hordes of people that came for the mountain sliding. The only thing that kept me warm was hearing the stories from the travelers about the Golden Coast of California. I kept my bag packed all winter knowing that first snow melt I'd be crossing those mountains to stick my feet right in the warm waters of the colossal Pacific.

Well, sure enough, that snow melted. And when it did the rivers raged harder than ever. So I figured, since water always flows the easiest route, I ought to take nature's advice. I rode that river right to the California State line. I was so close to the ocean that I could smell the salt in the air. Little did I know, the journey from the California State line to the Pacific is a treacherous path built by Giants. I crawled over boulders the size of houses, and got lost walking around the trunk of a single tree. The forest was so tall it blocked out the sun and rocks were all that could live underneath.

Eventually, I made it through to the city of Los Angeles. Carpets of pine needles turned to beds of cement and hundreds of scurrying critters evolved to millions of bustling people. I had never seen such a popular place. I knew the stories of grandeur must have been true. Without any further hesitation, I marched myself right on down to the white sandy beach. I stood there, scratched and bruised, awe struck by the glory of the sight so divine. I dropped my bag and ran open armed towards the growling waves of the Pacific. The ocean must not have been as excited to see me cause it reached right up and smacked me in the face. Taken aback by the insult, I stood there staring, dripping wet from head to toe. Then I felt it, a sharp shiver run up and down my spine. “This water's cold!?!”

Well, it was right then and there, at that moment, that I knew what I had to do. I grabbed my bag and marched right back to Alabama. I wanted to share my stories with the others so I joined the State's University to be with those who had the higher learning, ones that might have also done some traveling, to hear about their adventures too. Seeing as how I was pretty efficient at work with my hands, I got a degree there in the Art of making Sculpture. From this experience, I met a nice fella named Tony. He is pretty good at making Sculptures too. He told me that people actually pay you to make Sculptures in the City of New York. In fact, he and I hit it off so well that he offered me a job doing just that, in his studio, in a place called Brooklyn.

This sounded like a pretty good idea to me, and since I didn't have anything else to do, I grabbed my bag once again and headed to the Northeast. That was over two and a half years ago now, and you wouldn't believe the things I have seen and the people I have encountered if I told you with a sober face. I eaten food from the far reaches of the Earth, danced in a Chinese New Year Parade, ice skated in the midst of Golden Idols, ridden a roller coaster on the beach, and counted backwards from ten with millions of other people at the same exact time. But the most important thing that I have encountered is hearing and seeing stories told by people from all over the world. Stories I never even imagined. The fantasies of the world seem to come together in this place, and you know what I've learned from all of this? My stories are pretty interesting too. So I tell it, mostly with my hands, to anyone who listens.