My Latest: The Aberrant Lives of Damian Callahan

My latest book The Aberrant Lives of Damian Callahan is now available at Amazon (and other outlets to follow).

The 50-word summary goes like this:

Damian Callahan suffers a head injury that leads to a diagnosis of terminal brain cancer, and sets out on a quixotic journey to pursue the woman of his dreams—a woman who might be a figment of his imagination, only to discover the truth about his life and his death.

If you click on the cover below you can find out more.

This short novel came out of an event I experienced in the summer before seventh grade. Parents tell us never to get into cars with strangers, like the one who in the 1970s pulled to a stop in front of me while I sat on my bike waiting for a traffic light to change. I didn’t get into the man’s car. Every year, some children are not so lucky.

From time to time I always wondered about the “what if” scenario concerning the situation that had happened to me. Would I have survived? Would I have ever seen my family again?

Damian Callahan, the protagonist in my new novel, is not me. He is, however, with all of his flaws, a creation of the “what if” scenario from my own life.

Ordinarily, I don’t offer much in the way of trigger warnings for my work. With this novel, I’m making an exception. Anyone who may have suffered sexual trauma as an adolescent should read The Aberrant Lives of Damian Callahan with caution.

Drop me a line at and let me know what you think about the novel, leave a review, or both. Thanks so much.

How to Remember a Tragedy

Rather than remembering another killer’s name, let’s remember their names. Last night I was picking up a pizza and CNN was on the pizza shop television. I saw a clip of one of the fathers coming out of a church service (of course there were cameras in his face because our sensationalist media knows nothing of respect), and he looked as if he had aged twenty years overnight. I cannot imagine the pain he feels. He talked about his daughter and how she lit up a room whenever she walked in.


At my own church last night the priest talked about the monsignor in Newtown, CT who had baptized 10 of the 20 children killed. Now, that monsignor has to see over the funerals of the same children he had baptized just 6 or 7 years ago.

The other night my son and I talked about this (as did he and his mother). Sometimes we never have just the right words for our children. Our parents didn’t either, but we didn’t live in a world fraught with this level of evil the way our children do.

I wish I could tell my son it won’t happen ever again, but I do not like to lie to him. Children shouldn’t have to police their own schools, being on the lookout for anything out-of-place, for strangers in their familiar halls. They are there to learn, to grow, to make friends, to endure the pecking order (as we all have in our time), and maybe even to experience a few crushes before they get older.

These are just a few reasons why we should try to remember the names of victims as we move forward, and leave behind the killer’s name so that his twisted wish for immortality is nullified.

%d bloggers like this: