I was born and raised in Brooklyn long before anyone in the borough knew shit about kale.
My father told me I would never make a living as a writer. As a result, I became a CPA, tax attorney, and adjunct tax professor at NYU. That was all pretty boring. Eventually, thanks to some good fortune, my first book, Dough: A Memoir, won the AWP Prize for Creative Nonfiction. If you have never heard of the AWP Prize, that’s okay. Neither had I before I won it. Dough was translated into Chinese and was published in Taiwan and China. It has since been pirated and I’ve never seen a dime in royalties; but in my own way, I’m helping the trade in-balance between the United States and China.
An essay I wrote, “The Boy Who Didn’t Like Money” was nominated for a Pushcart Prize. It didn’t win, but it was nominated. I’ve been told that’s good enough.
My childhood hero was Gil Hodges. He played for the Brooklyn and Los Angeles Dodgers, as well as the New York Mets, later managed the Washington Senators and Mets, hit a lot of home runs without doing steroids, and by most accounts (though not all) was a decent fellow. He lived on Bedford Avenue, a few blocks away from where I grew up. Therefore, it makes sense that Gil Hodges: A Hall of Fame Life is my second book. You should buy it.