The Rory Chronicles

Growing up in the 1980s and 1990s felt like living inside a world that has long since disappeared. My generation—and the ones before us—experienced a version of life that simply doesn’t exist anymore, though we remember it vividly. I can tell stories of that old world to my kids, but they’ll never truly understand what it felt like to live in it. There is no going back. When I look back on those years, I don’t think I could have asked for a better childhood. I was raised by parents who loved each other, and who loved me and my sister unconditionally. Like any marriage, I’m sure they had their hardships, but they worked through them and stayed together. I’ve always counted that as one of the greatest blessings in my life. In a world where divorce and broken homes have become so common, I was spared that pain, and I know it shaped who I am today. I have nothing but fond memories of childhood. When I think hard about it, I honestly can’t recall anything truly negative. Life was just… good...

 For as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to be a writer. I’m not even sure why, because I’ve always hated reading. Up until the end of 2024, I had only managed to read two books in my entire life. Still, I decided to change that and set a goal to read one book each month. I didn’t quite reach that goal, but I did read around ten books over the past year—and for me, that’s a big step forward. Even then, writing still felt out of reach. But a couple of weeks ago, I was sitting by a fire at my pastor’s house with a few guys from church. We were talking, and the subject of writing came up. In the middle of the conversation, my pastor suggested that I write a book about all the wild and crazy things I’ve been through. I’ve always enjoyed telling my stories. They’re definitely entertaining—and sometimes unbelievable—to most people. So instead of jumping straight into writing a book, I figured a blog would be a good place to start—kind of a warm-up before diving into anything bigger. S...