Here I am as a vendor at a landscape architect's convention (September, 2007), telling them about labyrinths. On the far right is Marty Kermeen, an extraordinary paver labyrinth maker (we shared the booth).

Sitting on the steps of Chartres Cathedral in France, which I have visited 50 times over 42 years. See the section on Chartres.

OK, so I'm not in the photo. This represents the fact that I do a lot of writing. This is the study in House #5 in New Harmony, IN, built in 1820. I spent a week there and wrote some (private) poetry.

Home sweet home in St. Louis, a small house (1,000 sq. ft.) on a large park-like lot (1.1 acres) with big trees. I like to travel, but I especially like to have time at home.

Giving a training in my St. Louis studio (above).
Working on a canvas labyrinth (ivy Santa Rosa).

Winter time. Every time we have an ice storm, the branches fall on the electric wires and I am without power for a week. Good thing I have a generator. I was thinking about moving out the of country (France, Malaysia, Mexico), but that seems too hard. So I plan to stay here for the foreseeable future.

I collect measuring tools, including yardsticks. Giving away tens of millions of advertising yardsticks seems to have been a uniquely American phenomenon. (In Europe they didn't give away meter sticks.) I have about 1,500 yardsticks. Feel free to send me more. Someday I hope to write a history of yardsticks. I've never seen a book on the subject. If you know of one, please tell me about it.

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Right:
From left to right: Andre Gros, a French friend (his name means big or fat, whereas he is just the opposite), Ruth, me, and my mother, who traveled to France with us on our first One Heart Tours pilgrimage (with Stephen Schwartz) in 1989. We are standing in front of my former house, where I lived 1985-1987 (except for winters, which I spent in Florida). After selling the house in 1987, the new owners plastered over all of the interior stone, which looked like the outside. They wanted a traditional Fench home. Every evening I sat in a plastic chair (with three legs and one corner resting on a big stone), right next to where my mother is standing, and watched the sun set over the Pyrenees (the house faces west). I can still close my eyes at any time and see that beautiful picture.

My Ruthie left us on January 24, 2007, after a six-year bout with breast cancer. For more, see Ruth. This was on our honeymoon to France (1988), at the house in the Pyrenees Mountains where I lived for two years. I will be visiting the area after 20 years' absence in July, 2008.

Below is the most recent photo of me with short hair and no moustache. I've gone low maintenance.