Richard Lewis

My parents were American missionaries to Indonesia, where I was born and raised and still live with my family. No TV as a kid. For entertainment I either read whatever I could get my hands on or went to the beach. Grew up to be a fit young surfer who did some writing. Now I’m a fat middle-aged writer who does some surfing. Sundays, I go to church and think on questions like why would a good God make evil eggplant for man to gag upon? I also spend a good deal of my life looking for things, such as my sunglasses, which sometimes are to be found propped up on my head. One time, I took my young son to lunch on my motor scooter. Driving home from the café I had this odd feeling I was forgetting something. Which, of course, was my son. He didn’t mind, though. The café owner had given him some ice cream. Next day he wanted me to take him out to lunch and forget him all over again.

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