Somewhere, two hours above Toronto in the woods of Baysville, a friendship was formed. They were just kids, really. One a little older than the other. They were swim instructors at a sleep away camp. There was an immediate connection. A connection that would last over twenty-five years and into the next generation. They were an odd couple, both physically and mentally. One was quite petite and one healthier. One was the caregiver and one the cared for. One was wise and one naive. Maybe it was the other who was naive, time would tell.

They would spend only two summers together but their bond would stretch beyond borders and appear to run deeper than blood. There would be boyfriends, college, old boyfriends, new boyfriends. Visits, a wedding, a child, another wedding attended by the other who was very pregnant with another child. More visits, no children, phone calls. Underneath it all there was an illness that wound through the fabric of one of them and was always being monitored by the other. There were pills to take, hundreds of pills in one day. Lungs to be cleared. Walkathons to participate in. Hospital stays were common. But the one who was ill never let her illness consume her. It was a part of her life, she dealt with it like one would deal with chronic headaches. It was a distraction, but not necessarily an obsession, unless of course it needed to be.

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Month upon month, letters from his family went unanswered. Many other young men from his town had already died in the war. Inquiries were made directly to the Air Force. They said he was still alive, but offered no more information.

In many ways he was a typical father. He and his wife loved all three of their sons equally and always did what they thought was best for them. The issues they faced were those of a typical small town American family.

But the father wasn't entirely typical. Charlie had always been an entrepreneur, always preferring to make his own way. He established the first canteen truck in his small town, convincing the factory owners to let him sell coffee and ice-cream to the workers at their machines. He started his own variety store which quickly became successful. At some point he got into real estate and became, arguably, the most successful broker in the town. His popularity propelled him into politics and he became a leader, the Chairman of the Board of Selectmen.

And yet something was missing, he hadn't heard from his son for long, long time. So Charlie made a decision, one that a typical man wouldn't make. He didn't know how he could do it or what it would take, but he wouldn't be deterred. During the height of the war, Charlie would go to Vietnam to search for his son.

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But some things haven't changed. From Gloucester to Provincetown, New Bedford to Nantucket, there are still strong men who earn their living on the sea. Risking all to fill their holds with he fish that remain. And I wonder if of all the ships at sea there is a young man aboard under a Captain such as I had. A man who had a love of education and poetry. A man who taught confidence and leadership through example. A man whose very essence belied the 7 years he spent in Alcatraz. A man who became my mentor and taught me lessons of life that have remained with me through all these years. Is there such a young man now as lucky as I?

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Tucked in the foothills of Vermont's beautiful Green Mountains, the town of Eden falls harbors a terrible secret, a secret that Thomas Downey can't keep inside any longer.  To outsiders, the town of Eden Falls is a quiet, rural community  where nothing much happens and the people like it that way.

Beneath the bucolic landscape of this laid-back farm community, however, simmers a desperate struggle for a way of life, a struggle that forces Thomas Downey to become the killer that lurks in all of us.

This intricately crafted story unfolds through a crop of characters as rich as Vermont's farmland.  More than just a murder mystery, Eden Falls is an examination of what it takes to turn everyday people into cold blooded murderers.

     The nights here are really what get me.  When the noise has simmered down and most everyone is asleep, that's when this camp really comes to life.  Certain cliques retreat to their private areas and seclude themselves in conversation and music.  The romantic couples disappear into the shadows and spend their only private moments of the day together.

     But behind all the great experiences I've had, there still lurks the eerie darkness of the night.  The wind will quietly blow through the tent, breathing life into an otherwise still and silent atmosphere.  The moon is always very low and the sky is always cluttered with stars.  Nothing like back home.  Thousands of stars illuminating the sky, making it possible to see in the tent even what the lights are out. 

     Uniforms hanging will sway back and forth, giving the impression that they are very much alive and well.  They move together as if possessed by ghosts of other soldiers who have died here and have been trapped and tangled up in this life for all eternity.  This is their time to come out and play.  Eventually I will drift off into a hazy state of sleep where sometimes it's hard to separate dreams from reality.