This collection of poems is titled plainly, “We grow old before we know.” Which is strange for a young man, only twenty years old, to write or think. Or, not: These days, kids, because they are just kids, in the last years of high school or first years of college are forced to seriously contemplate their futures. They are faced with dozens of questions, “Will you go to college?”, “What will you study?” “What do you want to be when you grow up?” and “What will you do with your life?” We either find the answers to these questions, or take their best guess and hope for their best. I can speak for an innumerable portion of my generation by saying I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up. Because, to me at least, there's no passion, no virtue, in a career, or a house or a family. Maybe it's because we grew up watching our parents tear each other apart before divorce, or because we lost our homes from foreclosures, or because suicide is the third leading cause of death among young men and women. But, I think many of us have become disillusioned with the lives that our parents have lead, and are scared because we don't have any other models of how to live or grow old. So, death has become romanticized, made sexy. With phrases like, Live Fast, Die Young having become cool.
So: it is with these thoughts, this background, that I tried to put together this anthology of poems. Which, despite its preoccupation with death, is not titled “We die before we know” but rather “We grow old before we know.” Because if the law of averages and current statistics hold any weight at least half of us will live past seventy eight. And, while I have all my fears about the overwhelming unknown future, I think it will be better and brighter than we expect.