This, my new book, is an archeological-autobiographical dig both on and off the stage into the life and mind of a now 87-year-old actor, writer, father, grandfather, ex-husband, former lover, humorist, and longtime-sober alcoholic’s thrust into and through the present-day human experience. 

Not a confessional, but stories of human vulnerability abound. If you’ve been moved in some unique way by the vibration of a lone cello playing something Bach, or Walt Whitman’s poem "Song of Myself"; have laughed at Moms Mabley talking about “old men”; enjoy the wit of Dorothy Parker, George Carlin, and Mark Twain; if you’ve ever been swept away by the music of George Gershwin, Puccini, Jule Styne’s overture to the musical Gypsy, and Stephen Sondheim’s words and music; if you're fascinated by the mind of Nicola Tesla; if you're transported by Miguel de Cervantes' “Enter into my imagination” or William Blake in seeing “...a world in a grain of sand and a heaven in a wildflower...”; if you're bedazzled by Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s A Hundred Years of Solitude (traveling dream-like back and forth through generations); if you’ve wondered at the art of Vincent van Gogh, Salvatore Dali, M.C. Escher, and perhaps identified with Edward Hopper’s loneliness in his painting, Nighthawks; if you're open to the concept of non-local connections (quantum entanglement); if so, by any or all of these, you might come live with me in Where Possums Dance and the Willow Sings - the full title of which is To Soar Aloft on Butterfly Wings, Where Possums Dance and the Willow Sings - Off to the Nearside of the Moon to See Himself, Who I Believe to Be, Me.