It was clear that I was supposed to write this book. I started out writing it for my friend Beau Bixler, maker of root flutes. I decided a craft like his deserves a story all its own. But as I wrote, it became clearer and clearer that I wasn’t inventing the story. I was remembering it. I was remembering it from before the beginning of time. The pictures are all drawn from memory. For an old guy, my memory is quite better than I thought it was. It was interesting to learn that God had to be tricked into participating in this creation. God was only marginally involved in the enterprise. Well, that’s only sort of true. I wonder if there’s such a thing as "sort of true."