My name is John H. MacDonald. I was born on base at Ft. Leavenworth, Kansas which would tell you I am an army brat. My father served his twenty years, finishing as a pharmacist. We traveled on average every two to three years. I began my education in a school in Stuttgart, Germany. While stationed there, we saw Switzerland, its incredible mountains and even got stranded by a snowstorm. We traveled there by ship and on the way I saw whales and dolphins, and I didn't want to disembark. Our next assignment brought us back to the states and a continuous journey back and forth, state to state, north and south, east and west. We spent some time in Massachusetts where I got to see Ted Williams play in Boston. I have witnessed the fog in San Diego and the Golden Gate in San Francisco. After my father passed, my mother found her way to Seattle, Washington where I visited her on Commano Island. We became familiar with Old bloody Hi-way 66 on more than one occasion. We visited my grandfather in New Orleans before he passed and was buried there. A lot of towns, a lot of divergent people, their habits and speech patterns became customary for me and my sister. A lot of encounters, some peaceful and some were not. I learned how to defend myself with my fists and later on through my martial arts training. A life of leisure it has never been. A life filled with excitement? Oh yes, all the time, everywhere and every day. Regrets? Well of course. There is always something left unsaid or undone. You never really finish anything until it's much too late, a memory unfulfilled, a face, or a smile from the past, and yet a part of your living soul. I am not a perfect man, just another traveler on the road to tomorrow.
