Name’s Pete Kauffman, nice to meet you. Come in and make yourself reasonable.
I’m a husband to Melanie, father to Raelyn Merci, and a follower of Jesus Christ. Other than that, I’m not an interesting individual.
But the world is an interesting place, you know? We should talk about this.
I’m glad you’re here, am honored you’re reading this. I am also a little wary of you and conscious of wasting your time, and cannot promise you much more than a little sketchiness. I have seen the sins some bloggers have committed, have seen their small status, have considered it, and done it anyway. That is as close as I can get to a manifesto.
I’m writing for the pleasure of it, and to pay back the authors who have shaped my life: C.S. Lewis, Thomas Merton, Aldo Leopold, E.B. White, Henry David Thoreau, Wendell Berry, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Bob Sopchick, Barry Lopez, John McPhee, not in that order. It’s an odd notion, thinking that somehow one can repay people (most of them dead) by inflicting the world with their own scribbles, but it’s also a feature of literature that the dead speak. I’m beyond explaining it. And besides, it’s a pleasure.
