Welcome, reader, to a story stitched together from the jagged threads of curiosity, ambition, and a knack for veering off the beaten path. My journey, if it can be called that without sounding too pretentious, began with a love affair with words. As a child, I could sit for hours flipping through the pages of a worn Webster’s Dictionary, mesmerized by the sheer expanse of language, by all the words we don’t use, though they wait patiently for their moment. But like most boys stumbling into adolescence, I found other pursuits that led me through doors I hadn’t imagined. Some of those doors slammed shut behind me; others creaked open just wide enough to change everything.

Psychology was my first serious romance. The mind, its brilliance and its betrayals fascinated me. I thought I’d be a psychiatrist one day, and my college years began with the earnest intensity of a pre-med major. But I wasn’t ready. Not for college, not for structure, and certainly not for the discipline of becoming who I thought I wanted to be. Instead, I started a small gun shop with a friend, a side hustle that turned into something else entirely. Before I knew it, I was wearing a uniform, a badge, and carrying a gun for a living. Policing, it turned out, was a crash course in human psychology, the kind you can’t find in textbooks.

From there, my life zigzagged. I went from big-city policing to rural sheriff’ing, trading the hum of 80,000 people for the quiet intensity of a county with just 25,000. When the Governor’s Drug & Violent Crimes Task Force was created, I dove headfirst into the shadowy world of undercover work. It wasn’t just a job—it was a life lived in contradiction. By day, I upheld the law; by night, I played the part of someone who didn’t. The lines blurred more than I’d like to admit, and I often wondered where the act ended and I began.

Over the years, I wore many hats: cop, father, student, entrepreneur. I became a private investigator, chasing stories that were equal parts tragic and absurd. Later, I ran a defense contracting business, blending my love of strategy, firearms, and invention. Along the way, I taught interview & interrogations techniques, graphology, technical surveillance counter-measures, sniper training, proprietary handgun skills, you name it. I have been appointed to three separate statewide Commissions by three different Governors. Every experience, every training session, every person I encountered added a layer to the patchwork quilt of who I am.

Of course, life has its humbling moments. I was diagnosed with Type II diabetes after years of late nights, fast food, and stress. My father died young, and for a time, I convinced myself I’d follow in his footsteps, consumed by cancer that wasn’t there. It took hitting that wall for me to reevaluate, to shift gears once again. I went back to law enforcement, then pivoted to the corporate world, only to find myself laid off when the economy collapsed.

Through it all, I kept circling back to words. They’ve always been there, waiting for me, like old friends I’ve neglected too long. Writing isn’t just a hobby for me; it’s a mirror, a compass, and sometimes a lifeboat. My blog is a reflection of my life—scattered, unpredictable, sometimes messy, but always honest. It’s a place where I can sift through the past, find the humor in the absurd, and maybe stumble upon a little wisdom along the way.

So, here I am, sharing bits and pieces of a life lived in full color, hoping something here resonates with you. If it does, let me know. If not, that’s fine too. After all, I’m not writing for applause, this is simply my creative outlet, my way of making sense of it all. Welcome to the ride. Let’s see where it takes us.

Nice to meet you.

Chris White