Years ago, my wife and I floated the Colorado River; we hopped on a raft at Lake Powell Dam and floated through some amazing sights heading into Grand Canyon. The river was low even then, and petroglyphs usually covered were showing; one, in particular, seemed to be a favorite, Kokopelli. For those of you who don’t know him, Kokopelli is a little hunched-over man playing a flute. He is one of the most important gods of the southwestern indigenous cultures; Kokopelli is the God of fertility and good crops; he’s also known as the jokester god. I didn’t know him at the time, but it seems he knew me, and his memory stayed in my head; thereafter, his figure became an old friend. He knew I came west with other easterners looking for a new life; so, with his characteristic prankster attitude, from ancient Anasazi lore, he breathed life into the first of my Endless Times series. Book one, The Path of Kokopelli, was born floating down the Colorado; I think the guy just wanted to have out-of-town strangers discover some of his ancient origins. It’s not like he needs publicity among his people; Kokopelli’s already famous in the southwestern neck of the woods.

Poof, years go by, Kokopelli stays in my head; my book is predestined. Do you see a connection with time in all of this yet? Close to two decades ago, a bent little character on a winding canyon wall below the desert decided to hear his name again; and in a time before even that, copperhead snakes decreed they would provide the intro. Several run-ins with them left an indelible suggestion as to what one of my worst phobias would be. I always say God doesn’t make coincidences; nothing happens by chance. Now you could say I just happened to see those petroglyphs, and copperheads are so thick in Missouri everybody sees them. True and true; however, the Colorado could have been running high that summer; Kokopelli would have been underwater. One of those snakes could have bit me and fried my brain; ok, so my brain is fried, forget that analogy. My point is, this book had a name fifty years ago, and the big boy knew it! The river was low, no snake addled me, time is eternal, and here we are; welcome.