Short stories speak for themselves and so this is the briefest of introductions. In my daily life, I am a psychoanalyst in a suburban New Jersey town where, for the past thirty years, I have been entrusted with the fears, dreams and hopes of my patients, children and adults. I have had other professions and adventures as well: I was an attorney representing Native Americans in Arizona and New Mexico and Colorado; I have taught parapsychology; I was a civil rights worker in the South many years ago; and on vacations I have been fortunate enough to enjoy various cultures.
The short stories here take place in a variety of settings and they attempt to take you on unusual excursions — on a fishing boat in Newfoundland, on the Navajo Indian reservation, in the mountains of Norway, in a cave in the Dordogne region of France, and even onto the psychoanalytic couch. They were written principally on the weekends after a week of seeing patients.
The poetry here is another matter. It always has come to me in fits and starts, on the wings of elation or sadness. It is more personally revealing. For months, even years, I have not written poems; and at other times, they come tumbling out — at the end of a day, in the middle of a day — hopefully with an expressiveness and sensuality that beguile.
I extend them to you — the stories and the poems.