There was plenty of topspin in the way my grandfather called me “a jack of all trades, but a master of none.” He disliked dilettantes. Education was important, but so were credentials. He was all for learning, but in a narrow way: as a means to a safe and sensible career.

Unfortunately, I’m addicted to learning new things.

My education has always been curiosity-driven — even fueled by obsession. My studies took me to Harvard, Johns Hopkins, and Oxford Universities, among other places. 

First and foremost, I consider myself a writer. I’ve written novels, books for young readers, op-eds, and the odd scholarly piece or two. 

But writing has only ever satisfied half of my mind. Side by side with my writing life, there has been a building life. For long stretches, I’ve made a living working with my hands. 

I grew up in Washington, D.C. I was a city boy all my life until about fifteen years ago, when we bought a little farm on a creek in southcentral Pennsylvania. Our daughter was too young at the time to say the word “Pennsylvania.” She wound up calling the place “Pencil Creek,” and the name stuck. 

Pencil Creek is where you’ll find me these days, either at my writing desk or pursuing adventures in experimental farming. There, or in Japan, a country that has fascinated me for decades, and where the opportunity for learning new things is practically limitless…