“Reports from the Frontal Lobe” was produced because of reading. Pieces written and shared freely over the years. Vignettes, rants, editorials, viewpoints, counter-viewpoints, must dos, should haves, episodes, blogs, and pick your word for writings ranging from a few paragraphs to a few pages. Pieces written for the sake of writing and sharing truth along the path of life. The sharing became important in my world.A world changed by Facebook.Facebook was a driving force for “Reports from the Frontal Lobe”. The social network became my neighborhood and my almost daily writings were the sharing with neighbors over a cup of coffee each day. I became a global citizen and grew to love people in ways that changed my everyday choices. Some days, the pieces were about my past. Usually, they were about things that mattered to me. Turned out, the same things mattered to a lot of people. A real lot. Each piece drew more readers and each reader drew more readers. The pieces became a clarion.Readers said they liked them. They waited for the pieces and asked for some of the older ones and some newer ones. Soon, there were hundreds of them. Enough to assemble in one piece……more of a placeholder than an actual book. A file of fragments with a tentative name.A surprising thing happened as the book said, “Hey, I am in here. Just kinda jumbled up. Get me whole. Get me whole soon, dammit.” (Seems even my books speak with a Jersey attitude.)Soon, “Reports from the Frontal Lobe” showed itself.“Hey, what about those pages of one liners? What are they? Chopped Liver? They belong in here, bozo boy, so get to it. Yeah, I know they were written separate. Don’t worry. They actually are my transitions. They were pieces of me before you knew I even existed. Go ahead, writer man. Do the work of assembling me. People are waiting.”Years of bits and bobs and then weeks of flows and edits….and voila. “Reports From the Frontal Lobe”. Yours because readers said the pieces were important. Well, if the pieces are important, the whole thing must be too.As a writer, this book is my soul. It is me in my entirety. It is scary to hang my soul out for all to see but the book became bigger than me. The book became important and first the readers said they wanted it and then it said I better get it done. I was pushed out of the way and then hung out here naked. That is how I write. It is best when I am out of the way.Now, for eternity, I am. Here I am…whenever you want to look.You can read it in sequence.You can read it in bits and pieces with the sweet randomness of a page opened and enjoyed.It is up to you. I am in here. Hope you like me. Hope it matters. It took on a life of its own….and that, my friend, is how books come to life.