The paperback edition is now available with beautiful gray-scale page backgrounds and images. Yes, I had fun formatting this book for you!
Synopsis:
Follow my evolution from frightened child to (relatively) enlightened senior, with select key moments in between, as I pushed the limits of what is possible, hopeless, useless, desirable, ethical, affordable, even legal, or something else. On land, sea, and in the air!
As a high-tech multinational business executive, I proved a kid raised on the wrong side of the tracks from the corn fields of Minnesota can spar with heavy hitters in the inner sanctum of a global corporation and survive, if not thrive.
And as an itinerant vagabond in retirement, I also proved that “All who wander are not lost,” but also, “Every battle plan is perfect… until the first shot is fired.”
Now an author of 21 published titles comprising 15 full-length novels spanning five genres, a book of poetry & essays, four audiobooks, three of which I narrated and produced, at age 77 I still cling to the delusional self-image of a relatively fit young man of higher-than-average intelligence who still has much to accomplish. This old dude ain’t all that smart, but I refuse to quit. Ever.
I describe this memoir as “a literary-based archeological dig into my life in search of artifacts that lend their value and insight to the present, and to the future. For me, and perhaps for you.” Fancy, huh?
With pretense now a distant mirage in my rearview mirror, I offer you honest and often embarrassing anecdotes from my past that uncover a true rebel without a clue who confronts his own weaknesses to prevail in series of refreshing tales who takes chances and wins more than he loses.
I hope to finish recording, producing, and publishing its audiobook edition by late summer. Here’s a pre-publication audio sample:
But what about actual content, you ask? After several acquaintances suggested I’ve led a rather provocative life, I decided to write this edgy memoir—a select set of life-influencing pivotal moments surrounding the book’s theme in the title—brought to you in a carefully curated set of short stories—critical moments in time—only because I was an ordinary guy repeatedly thrust into some rather extraordinary circumstances, many downright dangerous.
Some, if not all of these stories are sure to entertain you. You say you’re not into memoirs? How about a memoir written by a veteran novelist? Here’s a sneak peek:
My early teen years had been passing me by in a fog of mediocrity. Although it all came back into focus once in a while for a few standout moments. Though I was physically invincible, I still craved acceptance. Then, invincibility almost killed me and my friends.
I can’t vouch for every detail of this near-death experience—one of many—but it’s close. Yes, the three of us had been drinking. No, we weren’t of legal age at 16. New to driving, our buddy, Rod (not my brother), piloted an old Mercury. Or was it a Chevy? No matter. It sure sounded like a fast car with a big-ass V8 and a four-on-the-column shifter. I recall each of us craving a need for speed, though none of us said that out loud. More of an unscratchable but persistent itch. I can’t even tell you where we’d been earlier that night or how we scored the booze.
We careened through Silver Lake Park. Rod drove as if possessed by feral abandon. But me on the passenger side, and my friend Bill in the middle of the front seat? Not really, though we’d never allow such cowardice to surface. A vortex of wind noise swirled around us through the rolled-down windows. The summer evening intoxicated us, along with the beer and whiskey we’d been swilling. Bill hollered over the thunderous roar of the big engine. “Boy, this thing sure has a lot of power!”
He and I both clutched the metal dash with white-knuckled grips, already hurtling through the darkness. Not sure what we were expecting, other than naked fear knowing our buddy Crazy Rod. He growled, “Ain’t nothin’. Watch this.” He downshifted with violent abruptness milliseconds before stomping on the gas pedal to challenge a tight curve around the old Isaac Walton League cabin. I don’t think we careened up onto less than four wheels, but it had to have been close, at least within the expanse of my fertile imagination six decades later. Neither do I remember if that car was equipped with seat belts. Even if it was, we weren’t wearing them. Another potential act of cowardice.
I drank in delicious first-hand terror with my two intoxicated neighborhood buddies—slow-motion trauma—of decelerating from somewhere on the high side of 55 MPH to a dead stop in less than a second or two. This experience felt similar to a few other pivotal life-or-death moments in my teenage years and beyond—this wasn’t the first, nor would it be the last. None of us should have survived that night, but we did. After all, we were invincible.
Time didn’t quite stop. That was the surreal illusion that engulfed me. Whatever this phenomenon is called, I’d experienced it before when a lady T-boned me on my motorcycle with her car’s front bumper several months earlier. She’d blown through a stop sign at speed on West Center Street. I saw it coming in full slo-mo, and with intense curiosity, observed the sequence, powerless to twist fate toward my favor. It’s a beautiful thing, this cosmically choreographed ballet—foreplay to a violent embrace. But the pain and blood and many weeks of rehab? Not so much. Fortunately, I healed quickly in my youth.
I forget a lot, but the seconds leading up to that almost lethal event with two of my besties 60 years ago? I will never forget that cinematic frame-by-frame phenomenon. The front of Rod’s heavy sedan folded around that massive tree trunk that remains scarred to this day. The car’s ass-end left the ground. Just a touch of vertical deceleration—and a whole lot of horizontal—followed.
Then, a warm curtain of blood descended into my eyes a few seconds after I snapped back from planting my nose on the dash and the top of my skull into the windshield that both gravity and I had just shattered. Part of it, anyway.
Nor will I ever forget the strong sense that I was part of something unique and special—proof of my immortality, and more importantly, of belonging. We sat there stunned, listening to the background soundtrack of hissing and crackling and the ticking of cooling metal. We bled together, a fraternity of adolescent desperadoes.
Most of all, that night of invincibility meant camaraderie. Did that mean I was a danger junkie? Surely not. Or was that what it must be like to bond with others in combat? I hadn’t a clue. Not back then. As I recall, after the initial shock, I think we coughed up a little laugh, a sneer into the Grim Reaper’s shadowy leer. Or maybe a nervous chuckle at the ridiculous proposition that we had all survived. Or most likely, simply a veneer of false bravado instead of crying like babies in front of each other.
Now, I’m not saying I sought to re-experience that euphoria again and again. But thirteen motorcycle accidents, plus “totaling”my mom’s 1962 Buick Le Sabre while under the influence of some damn fine weed, all before the age of eighteen? And I’m still alive to regale you with these idiotic tales? Evidence suggests I was invincible, immortal, an exception to the professed frailty of man. Especially as a hormone-inflated teenager. Or I was just damn lucky!
As we remember that awful day, September 11, 2001, and honor those who perished and celebrate those survived, including all the heroic first responders and their ongoing profound issues, we also celebrate that our great nation can survive such catastrophes with honor, and that life goes on despite such violence.
Now, celebrate with me as I’m finally able to offer my latest project to you.
Plundered Innocence: No More Secrets is now available in both paperback and Kindle editions! Pre-order response has been positive. For that, I thank you!
Get your copy NOW!
If you’re not yet an Aubrey Greigh Mystery fan, what are you waiting for? If you’re not sure, try out the Kindle edition for a few bucks. But don’t cheat yourself from real paper.
Like all my books, they are Ai-free! In fact, I’m considering inserting the following text into all of my books’ copyright pages:
What do you think?
I’m now slaving away on the audiobook edition, but that’ll be a while. To do it right (without using those “computer voices”) takes time.
Hey, if you’re like me, a good mystery is a blissful way to fall asleep at night. My mind wrestles with twists, turns, clues, motives, suspects, and thinking about why characters behave the way they do, and to each other.
Some of those in the story are lovable but quirky. Others, however? Oh, man. They turn my stomach. But for you? I punish them all by thrusting them into impossible conflict, both within themselves and with others. Some scenes will keep you scratching your head until tomorrow night’s bedtime read!
The Kindle edition costs just five bucks. Order this provocative new novel HERE. Soon to be on all digital stores worldwide if you’d prefer to patronize a store other than Amazon. The paperback costs a bit more ($15), but you’re gonna love this one. Yeah, I’m biased and proud.
“I love your characters and how their skills and worries drive the story. I was worried whether reading this book before the other three in this series would be a mistake. It wasn’t. But now I’m going to read the other three.”
“I’m hooked!”
“I was propelled along, wanting to read ‘just one more chapter.'”
“I’ve read your entire series. Nine-year-old Shane adds a wonderful family dynamic to the Greigh household.”
“I love how the sub-plots converge on the surprise ending.”
“Your best mystery yet!”
“Some of the scenes shocked me. The gritty reality of human trafficking hit me hard. At the same time, I found the story utterly heartwarming.”
“Shane Greigh is one complex kid. Scary smart, but vulnerable, too! And he’s a heck of a detective, even at nine. You make him so believable!”
“Oh my. This is a gripping story.”
“The characters have evolved from previous books, and new characters added. I really enjoyed it!”
“Quirky. Hook-worthy!”
Nine-year-old Shane Greigh is “bloody brilliant” as Aubrey (“just Greigh”), his Scottish adoptive father might say.
Shane is a Romany boy who’s traveled with a troupe of dubious “gypsies” across Eastern Europe his entire young life before being adopted by the Greighs in Chicago, more than a few decades from now.
As I’ve shared with you before, Shane is unique in all the world. Born with a condition called hyperthymesia, this is also known as HSAM, or Highly Superior Autobiographical Memory. There are less than a hundred people in the real world diagnosed with this condition.
Plus, Shane’s complex heritage threatens to lead him toward a dubious future due to what he calls dark genetics. But this condition, combined with his superb intuition, stellar powers of deduction, and heightened observational abilities, conspire to make him a brilliant young detective; that is, if all of this doesn’t drive him mad.
His new mom, Detective McQuillan—Q—struggles with taking in a child she thinks of as a “human lie detector” with a fragile emotional complexion. All of this creates endearing but awkward and humorous situations you won’t want to miss.
You just gotta meet this kid, y’all. And what he and his few unusual new elementary school friends discover—their fellow students call them the Freak Squad? I won’t spoil the magnitude of the plot they root out. Yet it all somehow seems entirely feasible.
“I love telling lies for a living!” Wait, did I just say that ‘out loud’? I mean, I love writing fiction. I credit my friend Judy Howard for this provocative quote.
Help out a starving author by ordering NOW! I truly appreciate your patronage. And after you read Plundered Innocence: No More Secrets, do let me know what you think!
Hey, y’all. It’s been 14 months in the crafting, but the Kindle edition of my 4th Aubrey Greigh Mystery, Plundered Innocence: No More Secrets is available for pre-order. If you’re not yet a fan of these perplexing but endearing mysteries, what are you waiting for?
The Kindle edition costs just five bucks. Order it HEREnow for automatic delivery to your devices on September 11th. Soon to be on all digital stores worldwide if you’d prefer to patronize a store other than Amazon. Why order now? It helps Amazon discover the book on its delivery date and will help me boost sales. Thanks in advance!
For those of you who prefer real paper, the print edition (376 pages) will be available on or before September 20th for $15. I plan to also make it available for pre-order soon.
I was propelled along wanting to read “Just one more chapter”!
Nine-year-old Shane adds a wonderful family dynamic to the Greigh household.
I love how the sub-plots converge on the surprise ending.
Your best mystery yet!
Some of the scenes shocked me. The gritty reality of human trafficking hit me hard. At the same time, I found the story utterly heartwarming.
Shane Greigh is one complex kid. Scary smart, but vulnerable, too! And he’s a heck of a detective, even at nine. You make him so believable!
Oh my. This is a gripping story.
The characters have evolved from previous books, and new characters added. I really enjoyed it!
Quirky. Hook-worthy!
The team also offered me several wonderful recommendations to make this book even better. Many thanks, everyone! It takes a village….
I can’t wait to introduce you guys to nine-year-old Shane Greigh, a Romany boy who’s traveled with a troupe of “gypsies” across Eastern Europe his entire young life before being adopted by the Greighs in Chicago’s near future.
He is unique in all the world. Born with a condition called hyperthymesia, this is also known as HSAM, or Highly Superior Autobiographical Memory. There are less than a hundred people in the world diagnosed with this condition. Plus, his complex heritage threatens to lead him toward a dubious future due to what he calls dark genetics.
As an aside, remember the actress Mary Lou Henner? She co-starred on the TV show Taxi. She also plays the mother of Aurora Teagarden on Hallmark Movies and Mysteries. She has been rather famously diagnosed with HSAM, and consults on a TV series called “Unforgettable.” Yeah, it’s a very real thing!
Let’s take a peek at how HSAM affects this child when he thinks and acts like someone beyond his years and emotional maturity:
The more Shane learned of his heritage and his new family, the more he threw himself into diverse curiosities, out of necessity. Every conversation he’d ever had, every memory, every… thing… ran on an ever-expanding loop in his head, like an exploding swarm of angry hornets. The adrenaline rush from each new experience helped settle down the swarm. The more intense the experience, the better. And if he helped others, it settled his anxiety over Nonna Sasha’s fear of a dark future, at least a little.
At other times, he’s just a little boy:
Q rolled her eyes, raised both hands, and dropped them onto the tabletop with a soft thwack. “Okay. Shane, even though you’re not of legal age to get a comms implant—”
“Oh! Ilove it! When?”
Greigh belly-laughed loud enough for both Shane and Q to jump. “Well, now that that’s settled, let’s eat!”
Q shook her head and snickered while Shane got up to offer her a little hug. Then it was Greigh’s turn. After that round of hugs, even though Greigh sat and Shane stood, he still looked down at his son. He offered his hand. “This occasion dictates a manly handshake, don’t you agree, son?”
Few events could surprise Shane. This one did. He beamed, but then puckered his lips, wrinkled his brow, and with all solemnity, punctuated by an artificial pout, shook his father’s hand, massive by comparison. Shane left his breakfast untouched and scampered off to his room to finish getting dressed for school. He cried, “Yippee!”
Q gasped at this unexpected and utterly childlike reaction before tears ran down both cheeks. “Oh, Greigh….” He reached across the table to squeeze the hand that wasn’t wiping tears. But he didn’t give a voice to his fears—that this one-of-a-kind boy experienced mercurial highs and lows.
Help out a starving author by pre-ordering NOW! I truly appreciate your patronage! And after you read Plundered Innocence: No More Secrets, do let me know what you think!
Until next time….
Gene
P.S. I’ve chosen to include a bit of my original artwork (grayscale versions), humble as it is, as page backgrounds for the initial pages of this book’s print edition. Crazy, huh?
I envisioned this first image representing intense internal conflict only partially attenuated through a creative outlet (think of me and my new little buddy, Shane):
And this might be what the encampment of Shane’s kumpania in Hungary, Croatia, or Northeastern Italy looks like. You may also notice this image on the print edition’s back cover:
The print edition’s cover with the image above in the background of the rear cover, and my vision for Hotel Literati in the subtle background of the front cover. Such are the sort of things a restless creative conjures in the early hours before morning twilight:
Good morning, y’all. Ever wonder? Are authors sane? Or–? Bear with me… I gotta get this out. I’m trying on a “new voice” mired in dramatic irony. And you’re the first to be bludgeoned with it. Lucky you. This came to me in the middle of last night’s storm-tossed sleep.
So, I have captured and sculpted to my liking the illusive concept that has put purpose in my weary step for the last decade, the blink of a cosmic eye. Instead of patiently awaiting fate to deal me a dubious future—a dark tempest or a joyous feast—events and the universe have conspired to gift me the means to craft whatever life I desire on behalf of dear creatures I embrace with pen put to paper, to breathe life, or to deliver death, to oblivious beings who seek relevance in my novels, struggling to live and die, love and hate, in a world I create.
It’s… godlike.
And yet, as I venture into such madness, with no worldly forbearance, I realize that being godlike punishes the creator’s soul for harboring such illusions. A wisp of genius blossoms in a cloud of conflict, just before evaporating in a confounding barrage, a whirlwind that chokes, uplifts, and then plummets every facet of my frailty into the abyss of doubt.
Yes, I doubt myself, even as I’m caught up riding ridiculous waves of inspiration, only to be cast into a trough created solely for my solitary confinement. There, I wallow, waiting for the next crushing wave, for endless eons, servile to a race of beings who defy me at every turn, refusing my beneficent gifts of life, of meaning, favoring instead to mock that which I offer so freely at great cost. The next page remains… blank. This impossible task is best left to someone more… worthy.
I loathe being godlike.
And then, as if only to tease, the leaden sky parts. As if by magic, one tiny miracle after another manifests itself in an infinite succession of tiny but priceless brushstrokes. They adorn the page, my page, the canvas of my masterpiece. A transcendent flash of creation coalesces.
But then, darkness descends once again. And again. The cycle of a writer’s life grinds on, as the next convolution follows its pretender. For years, decades, eons, this wholly pretentious act of creation drags me by the heart to some illogical conclusion. I have no choice, a tortured soul driven to the joy of creating, lacking the will to discontinue. What does this mean?
I am not godlike at all.
Yet, I author fiction, a creator of worlds, universes. Races of beings sometimes bend to my will. But they do not appreciate my power. Neither do I. This storyteller is anything but godlike.
I’m grumpy. Not because it’s a gloriously brilliant summer morning, and a Saturday morning, no less.
Nor am I grumpy because my only commitment today that’s not self-induced is a visit to the local library’s huge used book sale.
I’m not even grumpy that I’m 76 and stare into the fuzzy face of my inevitable mortality within the next short decade or two. I’m quite comfortable with that.
Likewise, during a pleasant drive between the library and Walmart, I’m not grumpy because the driver of a high-end Mercedes thinks less of me because I drive a rather ordinary American car and I’m not breaking the speed law for his benefit. He rides my bumper and honks.Why? Because he’s entitled to privilege not granted to the rest of us? But apparently, he flies at an altitude above plebeian statutes and ordinary folk, even though I choose not do so.
No, that’s no reason to be grumpy, either. Nor the fact that my grocery cart pulls to the left this morning.
And as I leave Walmart, once more in my Jeep on this perfect Minnesota morning, need I be grumpy about another driver with good intentions who tried to migrate into my lane without looking so an officer of the law could enjoy a safe space on the highway to hand a motorist a ticket for a moving violation?
I slammed on my horn to keep the errant citizen from slamming into me. That put too much pressure on my not-quite-healed fractured right wrist, sending a blue-white lightning bolt directly into my frontal lobe. But that’s just one more trivial reminder of the increased fragility to which my geriatric self is now wed. Not a reason to be grumpy.
And no, I’m not grumpy because some perennial pain at my age is no longer completely manageable through diet, exercise, and modern pharmaceuticals, nor because I must now draw on my reserves of optimism to rise above such trivialities. Fortunately, I have nurtured such reserves of optimism for times like these.
The reason I am grumpy, you might fairly ask? Because after a rather long lifetime of experience & research employing my more-than-adequate critical thinking skills, I’ve arrived on the platform of a belief system held aloft by the engines of objectivity, observation, and tolerance.
Having arrived at this well-considered destination after many failed experiments and many more successful ones, my source of grumpiness tugs at the stout fabric in my cerebral cortex where I’ve woven this comfortable blanket of beliefs. I am confident they are justified, and as a result, I conclude the following on this gorgeous weekend morning….
I am grumpy because of the incessant shredding of the sacred tenets of these beliefs by thoughtless, careless, and reckless intolerance indifference that causes cruelty to others, to innocent animals, and to the only world available to sustain us all in the vastness of empty and inhospitable space. That is precisely why I’m grumpy this fine sunny Saturday.
Then I remembered. Life as a human is messy, as is our entire species. And my life is far less messy than most. That, my friends, is at the very heart of this grand cosmic comedy within which we were planted and are all connected.
So, I guess I’m not grumpy, after all. I guess I’ll just bloom where I was planted.
STILL coming: I plan to add purchase-direct links for my catalog of books on this website so you can buy them directly from the author, yours truly, signed and beautifully embossed on the inside cover.It’s taking a bit longer than expected. Technical difficulties. If this interests you, stay tuned!
Check out the image above of my beautiful bride at a local bookselling/signing event. Ain’t she pretty?
My Debut Memoir
In this new book I share with you a curated collection of turning points in my life, from a 76-year life (so far) I consider well-lived. Folks who know a bit of my background kept saying, “You oughta publish a memoir!”
I’d typically respond, “Really? Well, alright, then!” And this book is the result, which has taken a few decades to see the light of day. Yeah, it’s taken a while. I wanted to get it right. I think we’re there, y’all.
Some early readers, however, have suggested this book is too… irreverent. Or controversial. Maybe because of several bare-naked confessions not appropriate for publication. Screw that!
As I’ve matured, and am now well beyond caring what most folks think of my living what I consider a life that’s finallyauthentic as hell, I just have to follow my own heart, and say what I please. I’ve found that frightens some folks, or at least concerns them. I do not mean to disrespect anyone, or dismiss the beliefs or passions of anyone. That’s not what this is about. At all. This is just me being me after a long period of my life where I could or would not, for a bunch of questionable reasons. That took its toll. Those days are behind me. Finally.
For this book’s upcoming audiobook edition (still in production), might you wanna give a quick listen to a sound clip? Just click on the pointy arrow below to eavesdrop on this 6-minute excerpt, and let me know what you think! Thanks for being here.
Pre-order the Kindle version HERE. Or wait until 3/1 for the paperback edition, or 3/9 for the full-color hardback I’m anxious to share these stories with you! I’m convinced you’ll find most, if not all, entertaining.
Settling In
If you’ve read my previous posts, you know that we sold our motorhome and bought a townhouse in Rochester, MN USA last summer (2025). We not only wished to be part of our hometown community once more, after being largely absent for a couple of decades, we’re catching up on a bunch of medical procedures at the Mayo Medical Center here.
As I write this, my dear bride of 57 years (in April) is somewhere between Mayo’s St. Mary’s Hospital and a rehab facility for a week or two to deal with a complication from a couple of complex back surgeries last week. But we’re looking forward to a better summer, now! She’s already planning a couple of cross-country trips in the Jeep! And we’re likely to spend a few months in one of our favorite landing places in Tucson next winter. But full-time living on the road? Rear view mirror.
“Settling In”, however, does not mean I’m giving up my writing career. And the memoir above is not meant to be a capstone project, merely a waypoint on my literary journey. I’ve never written a memoir before. It was fun! Actual NON-fiction. Not bad for someone who tells lies for a living.
One other aspect of this memoir might interest you. My voice is changing, as we “speak.” Apparently, I’ve developed a lung condition, a form of COPD. Mayo’s pulmonologists think it might be a subtle form of asthma that results in a chronic cough. For that I’m reluctantly using a steroid/albuterol inhaler twice a day, which is now affecting my voice, and not in a small way. So, not only will you witness a progression through some of my life’s key moments in this memoir’s words, you’ll also hear my voice changing during the course of my narrating and producing the book’s 66 short chapters. Particularly poignant for a memoir, don’t you think? I could be upset about this, but why not just enjoy hell outa the ride?
We also settled in Rochester to spend more time with family and old friends, once the majority of this medical stuff gets resolved. We’re intent on making this dream come true after our lengthy absence as itinerant vagabonds (I love that phrase).
STILL coming soon: I’ll be adding purchase-direct links for my catalog of books on this website so you can buy them directly from the author, yours truly, signed and beautifully embossed on the inside cover.It’s taking a bit longer than expected. If this interests you, stay tuned!
You might be interested in some early listener feedback from the first-ever theatrical edition audiobook of my latest novel, Rogue’s Gallery, complete with cinematic sound effects and carefully curated background music:
Brilliant Characters!
5.0 out of 5.0 Performance
5.0 out of 5.0 Story
Jan 20, 2026
“This is the first book by G.K. Jurrens that I’ve ever read and the first from any author I’ve listened to all the way through on Audible! Mr. Jurrens is a prolific mystery writer and a very talented voice actor! Yes, he imbues the characters with realism and magic, always staying true to their personages.
“Apparently, the main characters have appeared in earlier works as references to activities of yore show up on occasion. Nonetheless, it’s not crucial to this tale to have read (or listened to) the former titles.
“As in many mysteries, there are crimes to be solved. The two main characters are a couple. Aubrey Greigh (pronounced “Gray”) is described (in the helpful Cast of Characters in the back of the book) as a “Best-selling mystery writer…and freelance investigator with Interpol.”
“Greigh’s other half, Chance Goodwyn McQuillan, a.k.a. “Q” is a Detective Lieutenant of the Chicago Enforcement Department, 99th Precinct. She has a partner in the 99th named Aidan (Mac) McKenzie.
“Early in the story, there are a couple of gruesome—even macabre—deaths, unlike any I’ve ever read about before! The homicides (or are they suicides?) force the reader to speed up one’s reading in order to follow the leads to a possible solution. I found the story to be quite compelling!
“Like a Hollywood-bound screenplay, “Rogue’s Gallery” features many story arcs, each with a believable timeline. The various characters in these arcs are skillfully made to interact with each other as the story lines intertwine to a climactic conclusion.
“I have purchased all of the author’s titles, gifting the set to my spouse! Since reading this book, I admit that I might even be a new fan. I look forward to working my way through Mr. Jurrens’ bibliography and sharing my enjoyment of his books with my wife.”
Bravo!
5.0 out of 5.0 Performance
5.0 out of 5.0 Story
Jan 23, 2026
“Rogue’s Gallery” kept my attention from page one. One of the most important aspects that compelled me to continue listening, was GK’s exceptionally entertaining voice acting skill! Whether the characters were male or female, young or old, they came alive in my consciousness! Bravo!”
So Good!!!
5.0 out of 5.0 Performance
5.0 out of 5.0 Story
Dec 23, 2025
This book has a ton of characters and it takes a few chapters to get them all introduced. However once the majority are introduced, it is off to the races! The book is very fast moving and will make you question the impossible! Is there really a ghost killing people? But beware, just when you think you know the answer, a twist happens that has you off to the races again!
I did love the feel to this audible book in that it was a very immersive experience. In the end this listening experience was enjoyable and so very different from the way other books have been read.
I am delighted and grateful that listeners are finding this audiobook entertaining and “an immersive experience!”
Coming soon: I’ll be adding purchase-direct links for my catalog of books on this website so you can buy them directly from me, signed and beautifully embossed on the inside cover.
My intent is to offer this service at no additional cost (other than shipping & tax, of course). But instead of supporting Jeff Bezos at Amazon or Tim Cook at Apple, you’ll be supporting Kay and me!
Side note: When I list one of my $15 novels on Amazon after spending a year or more researching, outlining, writing, editing, formatting, soliciting pre-pub reader feedback, designing its cover, and publishing, I receive less than $1.50 of that $15. But buy directly from me, and all the money goes to Kay and me, less printing and shipping costs from the printer. It’s more work for me fulfilling the order and shipping books to you myself, but this makes more ethical and financial sense, doesn’t it?
So watch this space, and please consider this option for acquiring paperback editions of all your favorite GK Jurrens books! Signed by the author (a simple autograph or optionally personalized) and embossed (a three-dimensional impression inside the front cover).
My dear bride Kay and I thank you in advance. We appreciate you, dear reader, especially as we settle into our new “igloo” in Minnesota that makes this offer possible.
So until… and now coming to you from the frozen tundra,
It’s been a while, kids. Sorry ’bout that. Lots going on. So here we go….
1. Home is Where Home Is
Yep, it’s official. We’ve purchased a townhouse in Rochester, Minnesota, and we’ve sold our beloved bus. It was just as hard turning custody of our motorhome to its new owners as it was saying goodbye to the good ship Sojourn 15 years ago. Big change is always a challenge. But when one door closes….
We’ve been busy hanging pictures, getting electrical stuff the way we want it, as with plumbing (new toilet and seats), insulation (in the ceiling of the garage–the walls were already insulated), furniture (new and used, including one new bed and another “re-purposed” bed and end tables, etc.), a new TV and home theater, getting our stuff from storage in Florida, etc.
Geek alert! For those of you more technically-minded readers, I discovered a bonus after we bought our new townhouse–an RO system under the kitchen sink! Huh? Reverse Osmosis (RO) water filtration systems generate the purest drinking water imaginable. Here’s how it works. RO works by applying pressure to water, forcing it through a semi-permeable membrane that allows only (small) water molecules to pass while blocking larger contaminants like salts, bacteria, and other impurities. This process results in purified water on one side of the membrane and a concentrated waste stream on the other. But there’s a downside. RO water is SO pure it even removes beneficial minerals from the water. So, the dedicated water faucet on our kitchen sink generates on-demand RO water to which I add a pinch of pink Himalayan salt. The result is very pure water that benefits from the 30 or so trace minerals in this salt (NOT white table salt!) and tastes great (I can’t really detect any salt taste it’s so diluted). Is that cool, or what? The only other interesting artifact of this process includes a water dribbling sound coming from the kitchen for several minutes as the RO system feeds a new supply of purified water to its storage tank (also under the kitchen sink) and purges the waste products from the process. Kay likes the sound of a water fall. No additional charge!
We’re sandwiching all of this new house stuff between various doctors’ appointments, Kay’s and my surgical procedures, and even a little socializing (very little for a while, I’m afraid). But we’re thankful that we’re staying in one place while we get this medical stuff handled. That was always a challenge when we were relocating every few months, especially follow-up appointments or procedures.
And I gotta tell ya, I’m having a blast with a garage again! Check out my workbench project. While our garage is a double, it’s not overly large at only 21 feet square. So, any workbench I’d build had to be very space conscious. But I also wanted a full-service workbench, including a miter saw, table saw, bench grinder, peg board and drawers for a TON of storage. I found a space-saving design in Family Handyman magazine that required only 24″ along one wall of my new garage. But it’s been an ambitious project, and now it’s almost done (whew).
Check out my progress so far:
When not in use, my table saw doubles as an end table in the “man cave”. 18 drawers for small parts storage is mounted on a panel with full-extension slides for easy access, but tucks out of the way when not in use. Pegboard for tool storage extends the entire 21′ of one garage wall above the 15′ workbench surface and beyond. Notice all the new electrical outlets on the wall, including a dedicated circuit for a fridge/freezer and switched circuits for shop lights. Storage! And all in 24″ from the garage wall when none of the integrated features is deployed. One of 3 40+” wide drawers on wheels constructed of 3/4″ plywood. These drawers utilize floor space normally wasted. Notice the three drawers on wheels for heavy tool storage. Miter saw shimmed to be level with the workbench surfaceA heavy pop-up worktable when I need it.Table saw swung out with swing-up work surface for ripping longer pieces. Complete with dust bin and accessory storage underneathTable saw swung under the workbench via two strap hinges.
I’ll include photos of the townhouse in my next post (different from the ones I posted last time). It’s coming together!
2. Literary Works in Progress
Okay, so writing progress is a bit slow going as we get the new house up and running, plus we’re having fun spreading our domestic wings! But I continue to make steady progress on two projects:
an outrageous memoir, and,
my next (4th) Aubrey Greigh Mystery.
So, about this memoir. My current working title will give you a clue as to its theme: “The Trouble With Thinking – Confessions of a Compulsive Believer.” Yeah, it needs work. It’s about 60% complete, so I thought I’d share with you a draft of its foreword:
You now hold in your hands a collection of stories and experiences I squeezed from the life of an ordinary kid. He was raised on “the wrong side of the tracks.” According to some, he was thrust into extraordinary circumstances, time, and time again, as he matured and aged, and then reveled in his immaturity once more. The theme of this story revolves around how this lunatic developed and now maintains his belief system, many of which are unconventional, even blasphemous according to some. He now flourishes in the aftermath he’s characterized as “the trouble with thinking.”
Sorry about referring to myself in the third person. I don’t mean to sound pretentious. Sometimes it just happens. The ego still requires regular care and feeding. Yes, I remain a work in progress, even at age 76.
I will punish you with some painfully personal vignettes, including a few scintillating successes built upon a whole lot more miserable failures. I’m taking this risk with you by putting myself out here like this. Be prepared for a gaggle of unvarnished disclosures, kids. My sincerest hope is that you will find the account of my ongoing journey of survival and fulfillment a fun read. Maybe more. No doubt you’ll keep asking yourself, “Was he really that stupid?” Or, “How did he survive that?” Or, “You gotta be kidding me!”
I am proud to say I served my country with honor and suffered a lifelong disability while saving lives. Others fared much worse. In short, I’ve:
repeatedly defied death… voluntarily,
been shot at, robbed, stalked, threatened with the death of me and my family (and my dog),
contemplated suicide for about a nanosecond,
even been beaten bloody—but just once,
had friends who were cult members whose beliefs in their causes came and went. Some of those friendships and beliefs persist to this day. However, many did not survive,
witnessed corruption and redemption as a follower, leader, and concerned citizen,
experienced altered states of consciousness—still do regularly—and fell prey to chronic life-threatening addictions. Yes, I still struggle with a few of those.
Over the years, I’ve been a:
professional dishwasher,
hippie,
cross-country hitchhiker,
dope smuggler,
skydiver,
scuba diver,
water and snow skier,
racing and voyaging sailor,
electrical engineering technician,
marine law enforcement officer, along with search and rescue responsibilities,
audio recording engineer,
advertising executive,
hotel manager,
long-term high-functioning alcoholic,
touring motorcyclist,
frequent international traveler,
successful international business executive, and,
itinerant vagabond living on the road.
My commitment to each of these (mis)adventures further shaped my future and who I would become: an artist, published author, and full-time traveler.
It’s been an interesting ride so far, and my beliefs shaped every one of my endeavors at the time in what was possible, ethical, affordable, legal, or otherwise. For a kid with no pedigree, I still found a way to snag an advanced degree from a great school. Yet I’ve never been saddled with a single dollar of student debt. It’s likely I trust in the art of what is possible because of all this wondrous life texture.
Until a few months ago (as I write this), my only home was a 20-year-old 43-foot bus shared with my soulmate of 56 years. But we are not without means. Remember the old saw, “All those who wander are not lost?” We lived this life by choice. This was right at the time. In 13 years of living part time in a boat and another decade in a bus most of the time, we reduced life to its essentials. All while living a life most only dream of. We have been committed to this itinerant lifestyle, but now we’re ready for the next chapter.
I assure you, I am not merely some aging hippie stuck in the sixties, even though that was my street alma mater. I am a retired middle manager—a 32-year veteran of a high-tech multinational corporation. Armed with BS and MS degrees from the University of Minnesota, an adequate pension, and many passions. These include traveling and the arts, including music, painting, and writing.
Now a veteran author with 21 published titles—including 14 novels—under my ever-expanding belt, I labor under the somewhat-delusional residual self-image of a fit young man. This old dude ain’t all that smart, but I simply refuse to give up. Ever.
With all of this as my canvas, it is with some pride I can report I find great joy in life, a thrilling belief in the basic good and evil within others and within myself. I sit here typing away after completing my morning exercise and meditation rituals. Eagerly anticipating the pre-dawn of each new day, I celebrate life and everyone’s desire to seek their own passions, including me and mine.
Fair warning. Within the coming pages you will witness my most personal confessions during pivotal moments of a long and edgy life. I’ve only recently exploded in what seems like spontaneous fulfillment bursting from within. Corny? Possibly. But true. Most days, anyway.
After seven-and-a-half decades of living large, I’ve reduced my life to its essentials, and not just physically. My beliefs—and means—led me to this well-sharpened point. My journey might amuse, annoy, delight, or confuse you. I might even piss you off. But I will not bore you.
This book does not suppose to offer guidance, only personal experience and perspective. Perhaps it will open an entertaining window into a dark room where you just might find yourself staring back at you from the shadows.
I am a compulsive seeker of truth—the impossible dream. The importance of critical thinking, and the seeming epidemic of a lack thereof, consumes me at times. So, I travel and ask questions of friends and strangers in order to expand my own understanding. But only of those whom I consider credible sources.
If you seem less than credible, I am not shy about crying foul. Even if critical thinking is not your strong suit, read on. Because you won’t believe some of the shit that I got myself into over the years in search of wisdom. Yeah, wisdom… largely a fictional pile of crap most people avoid stepping into. Turns out I had it within me the whole time, but we’ll get there.
It could be this journal will only offer you a few incredulous laughs, and that’s okay by me. Or you’ll offer a nod to similar predicaments of your own. I try to stay objective about why I made certain decisions throughout my checkered past. It is not my intent to alienate anyone; however, certain biases are likely to reveal themselves. Feel free to skim over these heart flowers (or turd blossoms, depending on your perspective). Regardless, I take comfort in knowing we all share more similarities than differences.
Obviously, you dare not just take my word for anything. I will cite credible sources for all of my conclusions whenever possible. From my own experience, I will also offer meager explanations (excuses?) for each of my possibly self-delusional beliefs (at the time), and why I sometimes still struggle—my trouble with thinking. Either accept or reject my reasoning.
So, hang on to your butt cheeks, kids. Let’s go!
What do you think?
Now, about my next Aubrey Greigh Mystery. Working title is “Exodus Road – A Remarkable Journey.” I expect to publish either later this year or early 2026, depending on how many delightful distractions cause me to stumble.
Allow me to share with you a draft of this uplifting story’s synopsis:
Shane Greigh is a gifted nine-year-old Romani boy thrust into the whirlwind of his new life in America. An unusual couple—police detective Chance “Q” McQuillan and best-selling author Aubrey Greigh, who also works as an Interpol investigator—recently adopted him. Upon arriving at his new parents’ luxury apartment, Shane uses his extraordinary observational skills to uncover Q’s early pregnancy—a shocking revelation. Yet adapting to his new surroundings proves challenging. He feels out of place amidst his youthful American peers.
No sooner does Shane start attending his new elementary school in the city than his razor-sharp intuition and mature outlook, not to mention his well-rounded wit, distinguish him. He soon notices subtle but disturbing signs of a sinister plot—suspicious interactions between adults and students, unusual vehicles lurking nearby, and patterns that others dismiss or don’t notice at all. While his adoptive parents chalk up his subtle observations to adjustment anxiety, Shane is undeterred and embarks on a relentless investigation, meticulously documenting every suspicious occurrence. Yes, he is an old soul in a young body and sharp mind.
Armed with a photographic memory and exceptional puzzle-solving skills, Shane encounters dubious acquaintances who reveal pieces of a chilling large-scale human trafficking operation. A smirk here, an inadvertent whisper there, or a new friend’s worries that he’s being watched, Shane sees an obvious pattern. Is the boy psychic, neurodivergent, or just hyper-observant?
As Shane consumes local news and events with a voracious appetite, he engages in conversations with Greigh and Q about how to wield his gifts without alienating those around him. Social integration remains a struggle, but he forms a tight-knit circle of trusted friends at school who appreciate his abilities and help gather crucial information, leveraging their own unique and curious skills. Their schoolmates call them The Freak Squad.
The stakes rise as Shane and his crew uncover concrete evidence of a trafficking ring—photographs, overheard conversations, and documented suspicious behaviors. When a fellow student goes missing, Shane can no longer keep his findings under wraps. Shane shows Greigh and Q his collection of evidence. The depth of his work stuns them, transforming them from skeptical but compassionate parents into staunch believers in their son’s discoveries and champions for justice.
Parenthetically, a secondary story line introduces us to a compassionate doctor and his family as they orchestrate their escape from a violent El Salvador, arguably one of the most corrupt and violent South American nations.
We follow the Curazco family’s endearing story as they flee the city of San Salvador, where the beloved Dr. Diego Curazco is a respected ER and community medicine physician. He is mercilessly persecuted by a corrupt government and their “muscle”—a paramilitary force known as Fuerza Armada —as he provides free health care to government undesirables. Dr. Diego, his wife, and two teenage children flee to America via Ecuador, Columbia, Panama, and Mexico. They are at the mercy of human traffickers during their perilous journey. It gets even worse after they arrive in the city of Chicago, a popular destination for this human trafficking cabal.
Ultimately, the plight of the Curazco’s beautiful 13-year-old daughter, Kalilah, intersects with Shane and his friends as she is forced onto the streets of Chicago by her captors. They learn of Kalilah’s plight from her younger brother, Balbo.
Together, as an immediate family of sleuths, Greigh and Q leap into action with Shane to investigate his shocking findings. Shane’s unique perspective sheds light on a dark underground network as they race against time and powerful enemies to unveil the full extent of the trafficking operation and the damage it has already caused to both those trafficked and those extorted.
As clues reveal themselves, Shane’s new extended family from previous Aubrey Greigh Mysteries in this series also joins the fray. They include Q’s partner detective, Mac, Shane’s new Uncle Rocko, MT, who is one of Rocko’s gumshoes, and Shane’s biological grandfather and Rocko’s boss, the influential Signore Gaspari Copolla.
Each member contributes their expertise and influence while remaining vigilant to protect Shane and his youthful friends from escalating dangers as the criminals become aware of their pursuit and bring increasing pressure to bear. As a result, victims of this ring apply their considerable influence to keep their sins from the pubic eye by attempting to bury Shane’s revelations. Time is running out.
Tensions further escalate as the investigation reaches a perilous climax, with Shane facing increased threats from shadowy figures surveilling him, his family, and his friends. He worries about them all. Quite the burden for a nine-year-old, but he is no stranger to living in fear from his years as a gypsy youth living in camps across the countrysides of Hungary, Croatia, and Northeastern Italy.
Greigh and Q grapple with the challenge of keeping the boy and his friends safe as they reluctantly allow Shane continued involvement in the case while retaining some semblance of a normal life. As if they could stop him!
Ultimately, their combined efforts lead to the exposure and dismantling of the multinational trafficking ring, bringing justice to at least some of its victims. But only after crossing swords with powerful politicians and law enforcement officials who have everything to lose if exposed by the Greighs and their friends—both official and unofficial.
In the aftermath, Greigh, Q, and Grandpa Gaspari, who is also a storied philanthropist, reveal the truth about Shane’s biological parents to him, including his father’s murder, his mother’s imprisonment, and their shared gifts for extraordinary observation and deduction. To their surprise, Shane already knows much of his family’s history. Of course he does.
The victors celebrate their triumph and newfound understanding of one another, paving the way for Shane’s thrilling journey as a budding young investigator, and perhaps, as another mystery author—like dear new dad.
Embracing both his inherited abilities, his experience from this case, as well as the accompanying encumbrance of not to reveal them to just anyone, Shane begins planning future investigations with his team of young “irregulars” with zeal.
That’s it. I like how the narrative is unfolding itself to me. Watch this space!
“Your performance of the story in the audiobook edition engulfed me.”
“The music and sound effects blended into the story so well it was as if I was listening to a movie, but better, because my imagination completed my vision of the story. So cool!”
So, until… and wherever… or maybe just in Southeastern Minnesota now….
Try a gut-wrenching environmental adventure on for size!
Sam Travis’ adventures continue. I am beyond excited to announce that Tom Kasprzak and I have put the finishing touches on the fourth Sam Travis Adventure, Lethal Catch: Crossing the Line. You won’t believe my friend Tom (as Sam Travis—his alter-ego in the book) survived this case in real life!
The Kindle edition is available NOW. The paperback edition will be orderable from Amazon Saturday July 19th, and both elsewhere shortly thereafter.
But order soon as prices will be going up, unfortunately.
Even though this is the fourth Sam Travis Adventure (all based on true stories from Tom’s case files as a Massachusetts state environmental police officer), the books in this series can be read in any sequence. They’re all riveting (humble opinion).
Order your copy of either edition for beach or campground reading this summer!
And watch for its audiobook edition in the future.
Synopsis:
Massive shipments of pure uncut heroin are invading North America in 1989. So, Sam Travis of the Massachusetts State Environmental Police infiltrates the crew of a suspect sword boat within the commercial sword-fishing fleet that plies the waters off the Atlantic coast of Canada and the United States.
Though federal drug enforcement is not his job, Sam feels compelled to help crush this elusive smuggling ring. He and the U.S. Federal Drug Enforcement Agency battle a cabal of cunning, well-funded, and ruthless international criminals who value money above all else. But they care nothing about human life. Least of all, his.
If this deep undercover mission fails, this insidious ring could incite a multi-national security threat—an eastern seaboard drug-induced epidemic. Or worse.
Check out what a few of our pre-publication readers thought of this latest environmental adventure:
“I looked forward to picking up the book each day. And since I was so engrossed in Sam’s fate, I didn’t spend too many days reading; I wanted to find out how he gets out of this one alive.”
“I found the book to be a gripping tale of smuggling, murder, fishing shenanigans, and adventure at sea.”
“You keep the tension high throughout without it seeming forced.”
“It held me until the last sentence.”
2. Giving up Life on the Road (Full-Time, Anyway)?
This has been our home for much of the past 10 years.
Our new home! If we don’t sell the home on wheels by this fall, we may still run for Arizona in January for a few months.
Remember when I predicted last March in Arizona that a relaxing retirement lifestyle might “take” any day now? Well, that day is finally approaching 15 years after retiring! Some of us are slow learners. So what does this mean?
We bought a (town)house in Rochester, Minnesota, our home town, even though we haven’t spent much time here in the last two decades.
We’re both excited and a bit uneasy about another major change in lifestyle. But the family, old friends, and world class medical care (Mayo) are powerful draws. So be it. Nothing lasts forever. It’s time for a new and different adventure!
“I looked forward to picking up the book each day. And since I was so engrossed in Sam’s fate, I didn’t spend too many days reading; I wanted to find out how he gets out of this one alive.”
“I found the book to be a gripping tale of smuggling, murder, fishing shenanigans, and adventure at sea.”
“You keep the tension high throughout without it seeming forced.”
“It held me until the last sentence.”
So, until… and wherever… or maybe just in Southeastern Minnesota now….
