It’s no accident that my first book, FUNERALS AND FLY FISHING, was set in a funeral home. I was seven years old when my father took over a funeral business in our hometown in Pennsylvania, and our family moved into the floors above it. I still remember my first tour of the business floor. The sun shone through the dark, patterned draperies, giving the large orange flowers an eerie glow. I decided right then to have as little contact with the business as possible.

In spite of the fact that dead people often occupied the downstairs, our house upstairs was really very normal. The biggest difference between our home and anyone else's was that my sisters and I had to be quiet while the funeral home was in use. One annoying effect of that quiet was that, except for birds and fish, we couldn’t have a pet. I was a grown-up with my own house before I got my first dog. I'm not sure if my parents would have wanted a dog no matter where we lived, but living above the funeral home was reason enough not to have one.

Since 1990, my husband and I have lived in Colorado. Now that our daughters Emily and Megan are older, our dog Buddy is the only "kid" around the house these days. I like him a lot, so I guess it's a good thing that I don't live in a funeral home any more.

Background art by Megan Bartek