Author Archives: carl

Most of today’s dads are just trying to do the best they can and don’t consider themselves heroes. But for dads in the military, being deployed changes all that.

So who do military fathers turn to for advice on how to be a great dad? Well, in the hit movie, “Act of Valor,” my book, The Expectant Father, is featured as the resource of choice for Navy SEAL dads-to-be! And I have to say, that’s just about the coolest thing ever. Or at least the coolest thing since The Expectant Father was on screen in another hit movie, “Knocked Up.”

Click the image to the left or click here to check out the clip. It goes by kind of quickly so you might have to watch it a few times, but the book is definitely there!

“Ask Mr. Dad” syndicated newspaper column

Guest: Kelly McGonigal, author of Topic: How self-control works, why it matters, and what you can do to get more of it. Issues: Willpower is actually three powers: I will power, I won’t power, and I want power; willpower is not an unlimited resource. Too much self-control can actually be bad for your health; willpower […]

In the southwest, on the arid plains; near the edge of the great desert, there lived a young lady. Her name was Matilda. Some called her Foxy Matilda, others, Matilda Macswain.

Early days, and late nights led Matilda down the road of loneliness to that place where no one wants to be. Misery. Her best friend was a Colt 45, that she used to shoot rattlesnakes and other critters for meals. Since she couldn’t carry much with her on the bike, she didn’t bother with pelts, although she did keep rattlesnake skins.

In the bedroll behind the seat on her 88 Dyna Low Rider, she kept her life possessions. A Boy Scout mess kit for cooking on a fire. A bar of soap, and her Bowie knife. On her person, she wore her leathers, chaps and all. Plus a t-shirt, sunglasses and blue jeans. Laundry, that’s what a creek or pond is for.

Matilda lived a hard life in her 28 years. Growing up in the foster care system provided by the great state of California afforded her little time or money for luxuries. By 16, she had been going steady with a man twice her age, who turned her on to motorcycles and the life of a nomad. After a trip to juvee when she was 17, she vowed never to go back again, and had been on the straight and narrow since.

Working three jobs while living in a homeless shelter afforded Matilda the money to buy her first cycle. Some tuning, a few bets for pinks and she had upgraded to her current ride.

Matilda kept her hair up in a ponytail that fit nicely through the hat band of the sweat stained Seattle SeaHawks ball cap she constantly wore. It isn’t that she was a fan of the team, rather she fancied the idea of the freedom of being a bird on the sea shore. The only time anything else was on her head was when helmet laws required that she wear the half helmet that was painted to match the bike.

Her bike was black, the color of anthracite coal. With a touch of red glitter thrown in for affect. She worked the bike over personally, learning everything there was to know about it so that when she was on the road, she could fix it if something happened.