Today is a ZOUNDS day. For, thirty years ago I arrived in rural Kansas. I had no idea of how long I would remain in Kansas but in my most wild of imaginings I would never have thought it possible that I would still be here in 2026. And, since I arrived stone broke in 1996, I could not have thought it possible the I would later own this:

 

 

But life has a way of unfolding unexpectedly. Indeed, my first words on this blog thingy:

Life is what happens while you are busy making other plans — John Lennon

In 1996 I was living in Newport, Rhode Island, and my life had finally collapsed after a real estate deal went way wrong in 1992, due to two very dastardly partners. By 1996 I was, yes, broke, and homeless after my house was taken by the bank. I left Newport by bus with the idea of just following, like a feather, on the wind of god. Where would I end up? I had no idea but a few months after leaving Newport I was working/living on an organic farm in North Carolina run by an old hippie when I came across a paragraph in a book about a tiny ghost town in Kansas called Matfield Green that was being renewed along ecological principals. I thought: GADZOOKS! That’s where I want to be!

And after riding an old bike across 1,000 miles in a 105-degree heat wave, I arrived in the tiny town. After 15 minutes I realized that all I had read about the town was a lie. But I had a bedroom, a shared bath, and food. So, did lies really matter?

Two months later I moved into a shabby house 20 miles north, in a tiny town called Strong City. Of the long list of strange and surreal things about my life, the fact that I still live in the same house in 2026 seems astounding. Although it is no longer shabby.

Yes, 30 years in the same house and place. This is unique in my life. My first 15 years were in Michigan. Then 7 in Florida. Then 12 in New York City. Then 2 in Rhode Island.

When I moved into the shabby house I was the young person on the block, surrounded by elderly windows. They are all long gone and I’m now the old man on the block.

During my first two years in Kansas I often thought about leaving for someplace more exotic (India?) or cool (Marfa, TX?), or an intentional community at the very end of of Highway 50? They invited me, after reading a story I wrote that was published by The Sun magazine (scroll down on Sun page). They told me to get on my bike, travel west on highway 50, and “just before you fall into the Pacific, turn left that that’s us.”

But during these early years, every time I thought of leaving, a whisper would say: “You’re part of a puzzle now, don’t worry about the rest.” And this would calm my wanderlust.

My new small community, to my great surprise, reached out to help and embrace me. This had never happened in Michigan, Florida, New York, or Rhode Island. I had always been just one of a great many. But as I learned, in a tiny community, one can matter.

It hugely helped that I presented well, had some abilities of use to the community, was not involved in drugs, and was never seen in public drunk. Thus, the embrace.

I earned money by doing some carpentry and by making unusual cabinets and shelving from salvaged lumber and other bits.

With time nonetheless on my hands, I managed to get two well overdue books published (the contracts had been signed in the late 1980s.)

In the later 1990s my life took a dramatic uptick when an old client from New York tracked me down and hired me to design his apartment in the Dakota (yes, that Dakota). I was paid amounts of money which took my breath away.

In the early aughts though, the Dakota project slowly died as my client never went ahead. As far as I can tell, he still has not moved into the apartment. I know, weird. But it was a wild and fun few years.

Before the Dakota project though, I had grown use to being poor. But being “rich” again made being poor again a terrible thing.

In 2006, I was in my basement, and picked up an old light on a shelf. Oh dear. It’s getting rusty. I need to do something about this. And this simple, seemingly innocuous act would utterly transform my life and financially grease the next two decades. This though, was not evident at the time.

I restored and rewired the light, and sold it on eBay. Oh! Money! I then took another light from the basement, restored it, and also sold it on eBay. I then began undertaking road trips to snap up old lights. My house was soon overwhelmed with lights, lights, lights everywhere.

Curiously, it took many months before I realized that I had actually created a successful business. I had thought what I was doing was just a way to make some money, like a carpentry job. This shift in awareness resulted in my dedicating myself to the new venture, and boy, did it take off. By 2010 I had surpassed my 1980s New York City income, something I thought could never happen again. I expanded by also selling on Etsy and my own e-store.

Needing a place to live that could also take in all the lighting resulted in yet another astounding surprise:

 

 

During these 30 years there were cats. A great many cats. So many at one point the I was a Crazy Cat Person.

 

 

 

The Crazy years began around 2010 and ended in 2024. I now have 3 cats, mostly indoors.

By 2014 I was consumed 24/7 by the lighting business and then…in an act of utter madness…I purchased the titanic-sized Cross House. My life went into super-sonic overdrive and I had no brain space; I just felt overwhelmed year after year after year. The business, of course, suffered and sales slowed. My house in Strong City, which was pristine in 2014, grew ever more dilapidated.

In September 2025 I made a life-changing decision: I would put the Cross House on hiatus for at least a year, and then get my house in Strong ready for sale and sold, and ditto for yet another house I have in Matfield (which looks like I will have ready for sale in the fall).

It took months to settle into a slower-paced life and, I must say, I have been greatly enjoying myself. I hired lawn care for the Cross properties, and I regularly show up and wash windows. And pet the house.

I have enjoyed the past 30 years vastly more than the 30 years previous, which were painful more then not. I am surprised I survived the 1991 to 1996 years. Things were that bad.

Alas though, I remain single although I do not feel alone. I am never bored. I adore my furry beasts. I make no predictions for the future because…as should be obvious…life is what happens while you are busy making other plans.