About Frank
Whenever I read someone’s work, I always wonder why they’re neurotic like they are, so I’ll offer a reflection of myself. I am one of ten children, named in alphabetical order by a veteran father who labeled everything in our house; even the towel bar said “towel bar” on it. This left me wondering if really small people came into our home at times, and used it for chin ups; the necessity of a label implied that it has some other use. His only personal notes read, “Do not touch. This means you.” My dad was a self-made man, who provided for his family even though he only had an eighth grade education, and had left home at age 15. My mother has a master’s degree in education, and was an outstanding teacher. She showed up every day, positive and expecting little in return. She is a hero to me. I was raised in a small, Christian town in rural Minnesota. I have been blessed to share my adult life with the kindest and most beautiful person I have ever met.
At age 25, I began teaching college Social Problems classes and Brenda and I started our own company, CORE Professional Services, PA, which specializes in forensic work. I have completed forensic assessments in hundreds of sexual assault cases, and have been asked to assess psychopaths. I’ve assessed adolescents and adults who have committed murder. I’ve worked with grieving families. I feel like I’ve seen the worst and best in people, from assessing individuals in seclusion, to working next to people who expect nothing in return for their altruistic efforts to help others.
While I draw on aspects of my life in my writing, it is important not to draw conclusions of people close to me, when reading my work. The characters and situations are based on real-life experiences, but they are not identifiable. I will acknowledge that, in the book, I make reference to the fact that my great uncle was the Chicago priest who wrote the book which was the basis for the movie, The Exorcist. This is true (although I should point out that my mystery is not of the horror genre). It was a piece of family history that wasn’t considered appropriate for conversation.
In high school, four friends (Ed, Bryan, Luke, and Bob) and I swore we’d each one day visit the Leinenkugel Brewery. Two of those friends are now deceased. I finally made it to the Big Eddy Springs of Chippewa Falls.
Every summer night when I was young, I played baseball with my siblings on the gravel road behind our house. I began playing amateur baseball at 15, quit as a young adult and raised a family. After my children were adults, I began playing baseball again, and still do today, enjoying laughs with former adversaries.
I learned a lesson playing football in the alley that served me well. There was one light, 12 feet high, with a cap over it. If I ran to catch a long pass, the ball disappeared into the black sky once it rose above the light. For the longest part of the route, I had no evidence it was going to work. But, if I stayed on the right path, the ball would eventually come back into sight and be in my grasp. That’s life.
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