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I was born in 1937 to a poor family. I know. There were a lot of poor people in the days of the Great Depression. But we were of the poorest of the poor: moving from place to place, working as migrant farm workers, etc, etc., etc.; just like you read about in John Steinbeck’s The Grapes of Wrath. I didn’t even know I could go to college when I graduated from High School. It took my older brother coming out of the Air Force with the GI bill to convince me.
Then I met Jeannie. I had no thought of getting married or settling down. But when I met her, I was doomed. I started my thirty-five-year Boeing career hugging the company tree with tenacious steadfastness--especially after the kids started coming.
Seven children and several grandchildren later, I retired at fifty-seven to start a new life: two years in mainland China; two years in Australia; four years working with the Marshallese; travels around the world to far-away places in Europe, Malaysia, the Pacific, the Philippines, Mexico; learning and loving different and diverse peoples and cultures of the world.
I started my story telling at the bedsides of my children, and evolved to writing poems and stories, and now novels. I love to write. It’s my hobby, my passion, my satisfaction, my deliverance from old age gloom and boredom. If you really want to know about me, read my books, my stories, my poems. They come from me, the inner-me: the real Max Delano Beers.