​Oh my...You will need some time and patience to read the most recent draft of my story below.

Or, find a brief list of things, including an outdated resume, my sporting life and other miscellany.

Or, skip it all and go read Marcel Proust's 4,215 page In Search of Lost Time. Yes, I have a sense of irony.

​A Story in the Mirror (with pictures!)

Once upon a Thursday, I was born, billions of years after the dawn of the Universe, which likely also happened on a Thursday. The next day (TGIF, right?) my family and friends began to let me know--in a kind and helpful way--that I am not the center of the Universe. ​
​Early life living turned out to be not only necessary to achieve an advanced age, but also was an awesome experience nurtured with books and that other thing.​

My mom taught me early to tie my own shoes, which I continue to do now, all by myself.
​Emboldened by my shoes with the double-tied shoestrings, I stepped out on my own to also wear shirts and, therefore, fully qualify for service at the convenience store.  It was time to walk the aisles of the Universe and sample the goodies, learn how we got here, figure out where to go next, all while avoiding inconveniences.
​School was fun, invaluable, and humbling. I have always loved to learn, especially nowadays during recess.  My father, the university professor, would take me with him to work, where I would sample the late 1960s/1970s campus vibes.  These would be mostly engineering building vibes on early Saturday mornings while the students were in various states of neural frothiness. Based on the evidence, I convinced myself that college was going to be a breeze.
​Later, as a college student, I enrolled in many noncredit "socials" that helped me score the "Like New" price when I sold my chemistry book back to the bookstore at the end of my first semester. Soooo.. I realized then that they keep track of something called a "GPA" and "credits" that had to be earned.

All remaining 190 college credits were earned by crawling backwards uphill while dodging an avalanche of self-doubt.

​During my school days, I started bopping a ball back and forth over a net with people called "teammates" and "opponents."  This went on for 42 years, with an adequate number of time outs. 

​The future was all very exciting, partly because of hormones, but mostly because it was unknown. There's an old adage "The more we learn, the less we know."  I know less now than last year, and so much less than when I knew everything.  Life's lessons are a scenic and bumpy path. The shoelaces come undone. I learn to tie them in new ways.
Life's path to date can be condensed into a rez ooh may where misspelled words are frowned upon. This grown-up document is the equivalent to telling the other Kindergarteners that you are the "#1 ranked shoelace-tying" expert in the world." -ish.
This resume (I have spell-check skills!) and, for the incredible price of one extra click, this bonus volleyball resume, are now available to internet people and normal people alike. A really juicy resume about that thing is unavailable, no matter how many times you click.
​Other unclassified archives of my past are on LinkedIn, stored in basement boxes, and briefly outlined here 

​Please give my family and friends credit for any good stuff you find out, and blame me for the rest of it.
One purpose has formed the patterns of my experiences: the practice of learning. 

 Learn. Apply. Teach. Reflect. Repeat. Pause as necessary.
My professional (and extraprofessional) learning practice has taken shape in classrooms, libraries, and gymnasiums, with communities, within neighborhoods, throughout the US, online, via publications, where people are working, while walking and pedaling a bicycle, across disciplines, and in association with local, national and international NGOs and businesses.
No matter what a good, successful life looks like, I am certain that it has quietly snuck up on me many times, in various forms.

How lucky is anyone who can be present in those moments? Though, maybe they are better understood and appreciated with the passage of time, when we can curate with context.
You may ask, "Sooo... John Har..ter ..handfoot, how have you managed to deny yourself fame and fortune for so long?"  Well, I say "<insert answer here>" !!!
(uh... let's save that answer for the curators after the museum opens.) 
​The people and smelly animals who truly understand me know that I will never, EVER totally self-actualize unless I am a shepherd, a cartoonist, and always the first person to dip the spoon in a newly-opened jar of peanut butter.

There are more items on my "Self-Actualization or Bust" list, including item #453: write with more self-restraint.  Item #454 on the list is "Oops!"
Anyway, life's day-to-day experiences now have more context and questions. For example:
  • Happiness peaks at the moment right before more happiness is needed.
  • The circle of life ironically has many sharp turns. Kindness and grace smooths the sharpest edges and grows the circles around us.
  • ​Is it Thursday yet?

​But since you already scrolled this far down on this web page, here's my current secret plan, accessible only by scrolling a little bit further:

I'll keep working and playing in my studio until I can't tie my shoes anymore. When that time comes, I will celebrate, barefoot, pausing nearer to the center of the universe, probably every Thursday, with books and that other thing.

​My mirror-to-window view:

Share the joy of strategic pausing with the loved ones in our lives ...to learn, to play, to wonder, to dig our spoons into a freshly-opened jar of peanut butter (or a favorite nut allergy substitute), slowly. Even better, offer our own jar to those who need it most, and join them.