I ran into an old girlfriend at my class reunion last month (actually ran into a couple of old girlfriends -- small school and we tended have shorter relationships than what is now the case). The last time I had seen her was about 10 years after high school when I called on her then husband at his store. I was a salesman for products that he sold in his store. After calling on him for some time, I stopped in once and the old girlfriend appeared. She saw my business card and had to come out from the back of the store to talk to me. Now, speed ahead a few decades and the next time we meet is at the reunion. She is now divorced and bitter about it, or at least that's what the body language and voice inflection told me. Since I didn't ask her probing questions about the divorce and how it all came about, it did get me wondering how she got where she is now -- the choices she made and why, and what were the alternatives? But she also made me think about my own decisions along the way when she asked me at the reunion if I ever did anything with my singing. You see, at one time, I kind of envisioned heading off to become an entertainer, most likely a singer. But that is not the path I ultimately took -- for many reasons, but it's now interesting to think back on those reasons and to wonder. Not to wish I had done something different or to bemoan the path I took, but just to wonder.

I returned to my old hometown for my high school class reunion the other day. I had not seen some of the people in years -- and I mean years, some I had not seen since we graduated. Others I had run into since leaving the town, but even for those, it still had been years. I had not returned for other reunions for a couple of reasons; timing for one, as they were held over major holiday weekends and we had other plans, and also because I couldn't fathom the point of returning. Who would I see? Would it just be losers who had nothing else to do that weekend? Would the "cool" ones return or would they too blow it off?

But something motivated me this time. Maybe it was age, maybe it was curiosity or maybe it was just that now that I am back to writing, I find people and the trail that takes them from where they were to where they are now, fascinating. I am intrigued about the mind -- what makes people do the things they do, especially those that seem to have had some disconnect with "normal." What made people make the decisions they did to take one path over another? How much did fate play in the path taken versus conscious decision-making?

In truth, I am glad I went back. It was good to see those that I had grown up with, with whom I experienced so much. The reunion did not produce, however, any deep understanding or revelation of mankind -- there wasn't enough time to talk to each person and find out much more than their married names, the number of children they have, where they live now and what they are now doing. It is not that people were guarded -- there just wasn't time for deep discussion.

I am still intrigued by those with whom I reacquainted and maybe even more intrigued by those that weren't there. Why did they decide not to come back? Are they hiding something? Did something occur in their life after high school that they just don't want to share?

As a writer, it doesn't really matter because I believe that after some time has passed, I will write about one or two of those former classmates -- whether they were there or not, because my mind will eventually think enough about a couple of them that I will invent their lives after school. And knowing me, they would be surprised by what happened to them and the mystery they created.

The following is an except from "Invisible Sin" -- a mystery.

Prologue
September 2, 1968
Yountville, California

Robert Rosselli knew the person before him would not shoot. He would not shoot for two reasons; one, he didn’t have the guts, and two, Robert had no intention of dying right now or in this way. He, and only he, controlled his destiny.

“So, here we are,” Robert said, placing the phone back in its cradle. “The money’s transferred – you have what you came for.” He turned, staring hard into the man’s eyes, refusing to glance at the weapon. “I’ve done my part. Now . . . give back what’s mine.” The words hissed through the quietness.

The intruder stood frozen in place – no words, no movement; his eyes boring in on Robert’s – an unfamiliar position.

Robert stared, believing that with just his eyes, the man would wilt and plead for forgiveness. “Once that’s done,” he continued, “do what you want. Run away and hide. Spend the money on whatever it is you think it will get you. But know this,” the words cutting the air now held still by a thread, “you will be hunted, you will be tracked down and you will be found, and whatever money is left – I take it back. I don’t care who you are or how I get it.”

A wry smile pushed at the corner of Robert’s mouth as he turned and sat easily down into the dark leather chair, crossing his legs and placing the ransom note on his lap – ever in control.

“Enjoy it while you can.” He locked eyes with his intruder – old power against ‘the never had power’.

The intruder’s cold stare could not match Robert’s, but still, it bore deep into Robert’s eyes as if trying to get inside the workings of Robert’s mind, attempting one last time to finally understand this man who had made his life so miserable. And then, as the coldness spread from the intruder’s eyes down across his face and into his hand . . . he pulled the trigger. The speed surprising them both – faster than a thought.

For the intruder – a beginning. But for Robert – the end. Peace and finality delivered by a bullet.

I have belonged to a writing group for about 4 years, the Brandywine Valley Writers Group (http://www.bvwg.org). At first, as I was finally concluding my first novel and looking for help in getting published, the group offered some benefit. As time passed and my first novel was completed, and a second and a third novel began to develop, either the group changed or I did. I know the group dynamics changed as people came and left, and my reasons for being a part of the group also changed. Not that I still didn't need some of the benefits a writing group can offer, but it is almost as though I have outgrown what this group can offer. What a group like this has to do is to evolve along with its members or the members, who evolve, will eventually look elsewhere for whatever new challenges and/or offerings they need at that time in their development. I guess groups such as this are very much like people -- people develop and grow and need more sophisticated knowledge than what they previously needed, much like a child grows and needs new and better knowledge in order to continue growing as a person. If the groups don't change and offer more challenging thought, then they stagnate and can only provide the same information to a new group of people who are passing through that part of their life -- a novice writer needs different information than a writer with experience so if the group remains a group for novices, then those that have moved beyond that will find another group. So, as one looks for a writing group, and I believe they can help writers evolve, look for one that is growing and where the people are ahead of you on the leaning curve.

I ran across an old friend yesterday, or more accurately, she ran across me. It had been 10 years since we last saw each other but it was like it had only been a few days - a very busy few days for her since she is now married and has a 6 year-old daughter. Be that as it may (whatever that means), its interesting how there are always some people with whom you never seem to lose the connection; people with whom you can just pick up where you left off. It is the people that make our world -- the events are just the backdrop. So much has changed in the world since we last saw each other, and yet, in many ways, not much has changed within each of us.

Just finished reading Serena by Ron Rash. A great book along the lines of Hemingway. If you like great character development, tied to history and a knack of showing the surroundings without being intrusive, then you'll love Serena -- well, maybe not Serena, herself, but you will love the book.

Today is a momentous day. Having traveled the world and seen many other political systems and ways of governing, I can honestly say, there is none like ours -- which I consider to be far above all others. Whether one agrees with who is the leader of our country, we had the option to vote, to argue, to defend, to campaign for and to openly support our choice, which all people cannot say. The fact that someone of a different color or creed can be elected to the highest office in the land says a lot about who we are and what we stand for. So, feel proud today of our forefathers and what they created -- a lasting system where people have options and are free to choose.

I joined the social networking site, LinkedIn, for business reasons, initially, but then decided I could also use it to expand my writing connections. It didn't take long before one of my writing contacts, Tom Coyne, author of "A Course Called Ireland (A Long Walk in Search of a Country, a Pint and the Next Tee)," found me and linked on. I first met Tom about a year ago when I asked him to speak to our local writers group, The Brandywine Valley Writers Group. He is a fascinating individual, and a bit quirky, you'll find when you understand how his latest book came to be. But he is definitely an interesting and engaging person, and I highly recommend his books if you enjoy golf, enjoy what golf can teach -- beyond the course, and just enjoy a good, light read. Visit Tom's website at http://www.tomcoyne.com. Writers are a great group of people, for the most part, who are willing to share their stories and help fellow writers find their way.