Slow Bear began in my heart, moved to my belly and head respectively, then decided to take over whole-hog. Bears don't speak English, so here I am, and I did the best I could to tease out the fella's jumble of tales and feelings into a coherent book that will hopefully both entertain and enliven whomsoever dives in.
     

     It's been a whirlwind of a process putting all this together, likely beginning when a 19-year-old me lit out on the freeways and side-roads of America with a thumb in the air, forming and gathering itself as I meandered alone through many a wilderness in this country, then maturing and dreaming itself into being with every one of the hundreds of strangers I met who took me into their worlds and vice versa.
 

     This became real nearly three decades later as Slow Bear threatened to claw himself outa me if I continued procrastinating instead of getting the damn book done.
So here it is. My imaginary friend was a good sport, lazy writing companion, and will stand here immortalized as the hero of this journey in my stead, though the True Authors are really a mountain... a redhead dancing in the rain... a husky malamute girl called Sitka and many other lights drifting through and settling into me.