Born in a log cabin hospital - studied by the glow of video fireplace, Rick Lodewell was reared by Klutta and Yoar – semi-gods of Babylonian extraction. He learned how to swim at the confluence of the Tigris and Euphrates Rivers and killed his first wolf with his bare hands (and joined the Bare-Handed Wolf Chokers Association) in 1737. 1737? Old? Yes, he is old, older than one can imagine. When the world was young, he was ancient. When Gondwannaland prowled the seas, drifting continentally, he stalked the flowerless prairie in search of game. When India plowed into Asia he rode the Himalayas ever higher, nature’s own elevator. He counts his birthdays in geologic time, and fondly remembers Trilobyte roasted in its own shell in the wild fires of a Pre-Cambrian oxygen rich atmosphere. Perhaps the first creature ever to evolve within himself, he began vertebrate life as a Dimetredon and through eons he has led the development toward modern humans. Indeed, he watched as human ancestors scrambled down out of the trees and slowly, clumsily tried to stand erect. He shook the rudimentary hand of Bojansus man, and clapped the furry back of Neandertal warriors—home following a hunt, great carcasses of rancid meet slung dripping over their massive shoulders. He helped Cro-Magnon humans realize their potential, first form tools superior to Neandertal’s and finally, when they were ready, encouraged them to spread throughout the land and in so doing, conquer the world. One does not overstate when one suggests that Rick Lodewell is the father of humanity.

Good Writers Award (twice)
King of Poets Award
Prose Giants League Award