Fire in the Barrel

About the Book

Everyone with a history has a story to tell. I am no different. Though a product of imagination, this tale was wrought with the hammer and anvil of human experience. The raw materials were acquired while I was a Lieutenant stationed at the Naval Reserve Readiness Center In Detroit, Michigan.

At times, we are thrust into positions we don´t relish, but we persevere them for pride and the common good. One such position is that of Casualty Assistance Calls Officer, a collateral duty. The responsibility of this office is a solemn one: to inform the family of the death of a service member while in the line of duty. This is a task that must be carried out as close to the time of death as possible, and it bares the additional weight of making all the necessary arrangements for burial.

One evening, I received a call about the death of a petty officer whose family lived in one of the poorest sections of Detroit. After making the proper preparations with my Casualty Assistant, we drove to the neighborhood where the notification was to take place. The thing I remember most vividly was the way we were treated by the people on the street. Surely, one can envision horror stories about being caught in a bad neighborhood after dark. These locals, however, treated us with a certain reverence and respect, choosing to part like the Red Sea rather than be confrontational.

This was the fire that forged the tale. I started to ask myself questions. What would a person see in the inner city if he were invisible to the local inhabitants? What kind of information could be gathered to chronicle their daily lives? I must admit, curiosity got the best of me, and I decided to see for myself. For two weeks, I lived incognito in one of the rougher sections of Detroit, and later on, I spent another two weeks in the Denny Regrade area of Seattle, Washington to get answers to these questions under the guise of being destitute. I specifically wanted to know how close we all are to being homeless, and the proximity is downright scary.

It is my hope that you, as the reader, enjoy this story. It is also my vision that you will look upon the less fortunate with a greater sense of compassion and empathy. And, if you really feel the urge, get involved.

You can make a difference in someone´s life.

Fire In The Barrel is a poignant story that hits close to home for many people of the world. Through the eyes of an outsider, the book delves into the daily lives of a homeless family in the inner city. Though food and clothing are in short supply, hope and compassion are ever-present in an environment where nightmares are spawned.

Would you know a homeless person if you saw one? In this time of unprecedented prosperity, can you explain why there are people on the street? Does every person of the world have a responsibility to combat poverty and homelessness, or should each person fend for himself? Including the children? Does the legislature have a duty to see to the welfare of all of its citizens through government programs?

These are some of the questions at the heart of a controversial community service bill before that state legislature, and the answers are causing State Senator Webster Elton Stanford III great anxiety. So much so that he enters into a wager with longtime congressional colleague David Vernon. Under the assumed name of Sam Lamb, it is Webster´s mission to live incognito among the homeless for the period of a week and chronicle his travels. The premise of this exercise is for Webster to formulate his vote based on actual observations from within the homeless community instead of mere rhetoric. This is not only a story of voyeuristic curiosity, but it is also a tale of courage, conviction and compassion.

About the Author

O.K. I confess! I love to write. Though this passion doesn’t border on obsession, I still have a fondness for the craft, just as a nature lover covets every sunrise. It wasn’t always this way. I can’t imagine myself at the age of two, perched at a desk with pen in hand, worrying about developing the perfect character or formulating the ideal plot. At that time, I believe I was honing my gift of gab with phrases like “Daaaa Pffft,” and other such gems. It wasn’t until I returned from a three-year stint in Germany, all on the expense account of my favorite Uncle (Sam), that I started to get a charge out of putting pen to paper. My first real attempt at a “serious work” was an absolutely awful one-act play called “Willowhurst”, written while a student at Holyoke Community College in Massachusetts. Though intended as a drama, the play was one of the funniest things I have ever seen thanks to the melodramatic vision of the director. From there, it was off the Webster University in St. Louis, Missouri where I learned to write news copy, mostly as an intern sportswriter at KMOX. After a year of graduate school, it was off to the military again, this time as a commissioned officer in the United States Navy, where one of my capacities was as Public Relations Officer for USS Saipan (LHA-2). As the editor for the ship’s newsletter “Seafarer” I was able to enjoy the rapture of writing about foreign ports and observations of worldwide travel. Shortly before leaving the military twelve years later, I formulated the idea for “Fire In The Barrel” The preface to the book explains it all. I am also in the midst of two other novels, tentatively entitled, “Fountain Of Truth” and “A Walk On The Beach”. Prose is not my only vice. During the entirety of this writing history, I have held a fascination for songwriting. Shortly after the death of my son Colin to Hodgkin’s Disease in 1997, I went to Nashville, Tennessee, where I was able to produce and perform a CD under the performance name of Devon Collier. This CD entitled “Waterfall” can be found at mp3.com. I have since moved back to New England where I live with my Golden Retriever, Quebec. I think the most important thing for any writer, in any genre or discipline, is to know that the reader (or listener) enjoyed the ride and understood what was being said. It is my hope that you, the reader, fall into that category. For a writer, there is no higher honor.