My name is John H. Macdonald. In reference to a biography, the following would be my written attempt. I was born at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas a long time ago. This being so would indicate I was born into a military family, my father retired from the army. Over the next couple decades my mother, sister and I traveled the USA in a stationwagen from coast to coast, north and south. I began my education in a grade school in Stuttgart, Germany. We traveled to Europe by crossing the Atlantic by ship. As we traversed the English channel everyone on board became sea sick, you could not walk down the hall without experiencing the effects of the turbulent sea and there resulted an unhealthy result. Upon arrival in a port in France, we boarded a train for the remainder of our journey. This became ritualistic, a journey renewed every two or three years. I really enjoyed the trips and hated the packing and unpacking. Along the way, I encountered different phases of Americana, different speech patterns and ways of living, from farmers to shrimp boat fishermen. With each new trip you gain a slightly different perspective and appreciation for what makes America home. When my father retired, we returned to Kansas City, where my parents had purchased and rented out a home. It was a total disaster requiring a total renovation, the next time we saw it. I attended Northeast high school, from which I graduated and form my sophomore year became involved in the ROTC program. It was a natural for me, obviously and was promoted to the highest rank possible and served as battalion commander. I finished third in a citywide competition and thought my college career was secure, but it wasn't. In my senior year all ROTC scholarships went to West Point alternates and thus began my working years. I have sold fishing gear in a local store. I did tool and dye work, sold life insurance and investments. I tried the junior college where I lived, but was limited by working hours. I ran a printing press for the KCPL which is the power company. I have always loved the game of baseball, in any form, slow pitch softball to fast pitch, it didn't matter so long as I could participate. Along the way I took up golf and bowling. I played scratch golf for a while and bowled eight perfect games, I just loved competing. Then it happened, on a trip to Springfield, Missouri, on my Gold wing motorcycle, I had a wreck. The why and how escapes me, even now, but I fell into a lengthy coma and awoke to a disabled body. Feeling sorry for myself just isn't me. It took me awhile and many medical visits until my physical therapist finally explained my sense of balance had been destroyed and I would have to learn how to walk again. Well, I did learn how to walk and even have tried to bowl with my left hand. But nothing is or was the same. I don't know how or when it happened, but my disability opened up a new and different way of looking at the world, I started writing, mostly poetry, but also some short stories and a lot of social commentary, all from a disabled body with a certain clarity that mystifies me every day. What can I say? We all have a story to tell and here is mine.