It was the sort of noise you’d expect to come from a tank.
But it came from a mailbox. I was sitting in the backseat of a rust bucket Honda Civic with the window down. A couple of empty beer cans rattling around at my feet. Goofy grin on my face. It had stopped raining, the evening sun was out and the silver steel of the car was pebbled with gold droplets. My buddy had just put a firework inside an empty packet of Marlboro Reds, lit the fuse, shoved it inside the mailbox, and ran.
We didn’t know it at the time, of course. We were just teenagers messing about. There was no one around. I’m not proud of it. But I often wonder about that moment. I wonder about the thin lines between luck and fate. I wonder how the course of my life might have been different had the mailbox my buddy chose to destroy not belonged to a member of the State Police.
YO! I’m Parker.
Most of you know me from Twitter already but I love a stray cat and my door is always open.
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Ok, quick intro!
I’ve worked in over 25 different countries
I’ve scraped parking lots for change. I’ve pumped out septic tanks. I have lived in war zones and worked on military bases. I’ve done electricity overhauls all over Western Africa.
But now at 29, I live in Brazil and spend my days writing stories.
It’s good to see you here.
“WELCOME”
It has taken me a chunk of time and most of the dark places a man can go to learn what I know about life and business and the decisions that shape us.
But the idea for what I’m about to share with you came to me in an everyday moment at lunch here in Brazil. When it hit me, I was frying up some chicken with garlic and lemon oregano.
