I died when I was eight. My spirit left my body, I went to a 'mid-realm,' and was

then asked "Do you want to stay here or go back?"

Grandpa Whittles Rides Again!

I came back to be with my mother and grandparents. That was 50+ years ago.

As a teenager, I set out to learn why we are here. This much I know --

It's about you

1) You are an eternal being engaged in a brief mortal experience.

2) You existed before you were born; you will exist after you die.

Grandpa Whittles tires to deliver

3) We are all in this together.

I wrote Hey Grandpa! for you.


Years since dying & returning







What you will learn

Who you really are

You are an eternal being engaged in a brief mortal experience ... that's the truth.

Why you are here

This is a proving ground ... a time to learn ... like practice before the real game.

What it's like to die

Don't be afraid ... it's just a phase change ... a transition from one 'time realm' to another.

What you can take with you

No U-hauls behind the hearse of course, but you can collect valuable gems along the way.

Like a divine string of pearls

Families ... eternal, golden chains ... linking generation to generation to generation.

Peace & The Rising Generation

To protect The Rising Generation from war, we need a plan to make Peace wildly profitable.

Meet Grandpa Whittles

Round & Round

How fast are you moving right now? Probably faster than you think!

Dear Grandpa … Love Danielle

A letter from Danielle, Grandpa & Chicken Whittles’ oldest granddaughter and the mother of their first great-grandson.



Chapter Samples

Rread from chapters (below) and / or download a free pdf copy of “What’s it like to die, Grandpa?”

Prepare the way …

It’s a good day. You feel good about yourself. You are driving down the freeway, confident in who you are and what you are doing. You have an appointment to keep. You glance at your watch and realize that if all goes well, you will be exactly on time.

You make a mental note that making your appointment may require a few breaks. As if by magic, the car in front of you moves out of the way. Your good fortune continues. You feel as Moses must have when leading Israel through Red Sea, cars and trucks parting the way as you progress. You exit the freeway, and the light at the end of the ramp miraculously turns green. So it goes until you turn into the parking lot to make your appointment. As if on cue, a car backs out of a perfect parking spot. You glide in, there with minutes to spare. All is right with your world. These are the things that happen, and this is how you feel when the way is prepared before you.

You can probably recall time when things did not go quite so smoothly. When the car in front of you stopped and you could not get by, when the traffic signal turned red just before you approached, when the parking place wasn’t there …


Realms of time …

… while you are here, how much time passes back home?

Ask yourself. Is it possible? Did you exist before you were born? Does your identity continue after you die? Deep inside, you know the answer.

Not only did you exist in spirit form before you came to earth, everybody else did too. Likewise, every last one of us will exist after we depart this earth.

Hence, the pain of earthly parting will be erased, and in its place will be the joy of being reunited with friends, family, parents, grandparents, and loved ones. Parenthetically, you will probably see those you did not love. Think about it. Has a loved one passed away? Would you feel better if you knew that you will see them, hold them in your arms, and look them in the eye? Count on it.

Knowing how things really are is a source of true and lasting joy.

To recap: you existed as a spiritual being before you took on a body of flesh and bone. Before your advent on earth, before you were born, you had an identity, and you knew other spirits.

Have you ever experienced déjà vu? Perhaps when you met someone and you simply ‘knew’ them? How about this for an explanation? You are eternal beings, you knew each other before coming to earth, and you planned to meet here … in such and such a place, at such and such a time, and in these circumstances. The deep and inexplicable feelings you experience are the result of an eternal confirmation that the two of you had a “See you on the other side” agreement.

Your earthly body is a temporary temple that houses your spirit; it is a costume that you put on to play out your roles here on the earth. Naturally, knowing all this may greatly affect the way you look at almost everything. Take time for instance.

Realms of Time 

Putting ‘time’ in an accurate perspective may affect how you view your life. By comparing time as reckoned in the eternities to time rendered in your temporal, earthly sphere, you will get a better, understanding of the fleeting nature of your mortal life …


Is is so hard to believe that time is measured differently in different realms?

Is is so hard to believe that time is measured differently in different realms?


What’s it like…

Grandpa, Grandma & Family - Independence Day

Grandpa, Grandma Whittles & Family — Independence Day


At the age of eight, the day after Thanksgiving 1961, I had an experience that taught me where we come from, and where are we going. With this knowledge as a backdrop, I have been able to infer a great deal about why we are here.

730 Marion Street, Denver, Colorado -- Grandpa Whittles Childhood Home

730 Marion Street, Denver, Colorado Grandpa Whittles Childhood Home

My mother, grandmother, grandfather, and I lived at 730 Marion Street in the Capitol Hill section of Denver. The house, built in 1912, was three stories high; I lived on the second floor with my mother. In 1962, I moved to the third floor, where I could look westward at the Rocky Mountains framed by the high branches of the elm trees that lined the street. That is a story for another day.

As a boy, I had the privilege and pleasure of owning a dapple-grey Irish Connemara pony (at 14.2 hands, really a small horse) named Leprechaun. During the summers, we boarded ‘Lep’ at the Walter Paepcke farm in Aspen. Almost every summer day, I rode Lep on the mountain trails surrounding Aspen. Our rides generally ranged through the high alpine foothills that separated Maroon Creek from Castle Creek; some parts of this land later became the Aspen Highlands ski area.

During the school year, Lep was moved to Denver, where we boarded her at the Flying J Stables (9300 East Iliff, if you know the area) on what were then the plains east of Denver.  I rode almost every day after school. Obviously, I led a good and probably even a pampered life. At the time, I suppose I took it all for granted. It was, truth told, what I knew. Thanks to my three parents!

On Thanksgiving Day in 1961 (I was eight), my friend Vicky Emery called. Vicky, who lived two streets over and one street down on Humboldt Street, and I both went to Graland Country Day School. She was in fourth grade and I in third; we both kept our horses at the Flying J and rode together all the time. Our parents took turns shuttling us from school to the stables and back home. My grandmother always had a book or her journal, and was content to wait in her yellow 1955 Chrysler New Yorker Deluxe. I digress. On this particular day, Vicki had called to ask if I wanted to go riding on what would ultimately become known to U.S. retailers as “Black Friday”; it was the day after Thanksgiving.

Vicky explained that family friends were visiting from out-of-town, and wanted to go horseback riding. I had had a cold, had not ridden for a couple of weeks, felt well, and was excited to go. I asked permission from Mom or Gram (can’t remember which), received it, and accepted the invitation. Vicki explained that she and “Dr. Kwan” would pick me up about 7:30 the next morning.

Grandpa Whittles & Leprechaun -- Woody Creek Horse Show, Summer 1961

Grandpa Whittles & Leprechaun — Woody Creek Horse Show, Summer 1961

I donned my best for the occasion — canary yellow riding breeches, leather riding boots, and so on (same as for the Woody Creek Horse Show, summer 1961, above — of course, they cut off my clothes and even my boots in the emergency room). I was dressed early, and sat anxiously watching out the front bay window in the dining room. When I saw the station wagon approach, I dashed out the front door, jumped down the steps two at a time, and hopped into the back seat. We chatted as we made the thirty-minute drive to the stables.

Upon our arrival, Mr. Norgren, the kind and gentle rancher who owned Flying J was there to greet us. He had obviously been expecting us, and had a horse ready for Dr. Kwan. Vicki and I got about saddling up our mounts. When Mr. Norgren noticed that I did not have a helmet on (I left through the front door of our house, and my helmet was next to the back door), he took out a pair of bolt-cutters, cut the padlock off someone else’s tack box, and pulled out what is called a ‘dress’ riding helmet. It belonged to girl whose name I do not recall. What I do remember was that the helmet was covered in black velvet, and seemed a little big. Mr. Norgren told me, firmly, to “Wear it anyway.” At the time, it seemed unusual. As it turned out, Mr. Norgren’s decisive act probably saved my life.

Although it was a cold, overcast November day, we had a good ride. Having not been ridden for a couple of weeks, Lep was frisky and spirited — eager to get out, kick up her heels, get some exercise, and with good horse logic, to return to the stable. Like most horses, she well knew the way home, back to her stall filled with clean straw and warm oats to eat. The journey back to the stable was life-changing.

The Accident -- Diagram

The Accident — Diagram

The diagram shows what happened. The red line marks where Lep and I were running for home. I was in the lead, ahead of Vicky and Dr. Kwan. We were running through a stubble field, and had to go through an open gate in a fence that separated the field from a one lane hard-packed dirt road that the ranch and farm equipment and machinery used. The road was next to a deep (12’ or so) irrigation ditch. Naturally, in November, the irrigation ditch was dry. It was a protected place to ride — the bottom was sandy, and the horses the liked to walk in it. Just as I went through the fence, a girl named Nancy Lamb rode up through a narrow gap in the ditch bank. Leprechaun shied, and I was thrown, whip-like because my left foot caught in the stirrup, flat on my back onto the frozen ground.  In a split second, my liver shattered, a vessel to my heart disconnected on impact and I stopped breathing. It is likely that, had not Mr. Norgren had the foresight to see to it that I was wearing a helmet, my skull would also have been shattered and this story would have ended differently. Lep stopped instantly, but no matter. The damage was done.

After the fall, the next thing I heard was Vicky’s voice calling, “Jamey, get up, get up.” I tried to stand, and crumpled to the ground … faintly the words “not like that” passed through my mind. The next thing I knew, I was rising above my body, looking down on my crumpled form with the horses and people (Nancy, Vicky and Dr. Kwan) standing around me. You may very well ask, “What is it like to die?” The best way I can explain it is like this …


Choose a chapter

  • Prepare the way …

    - It’s a good day. You […]
  • Realms of time …

    - … while you are here, […]
  • What’s it like…

    -  Excerpt… At the age of […]

People are ready ... you too?

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Do you find yourself wondering ... 

 Are times gonna' change? ... Is something blowin' in the wind?  ... What will light our fire?

What could Grandpa Whittles know?

"What's it like to die, Grandpa?" is a free download ... Will that provide a clue?

random ... unexpected ... possible

Hey Grandpa! Volume I -- available from Amazon in Kindle Format 

$2.99 -- a happy meal ... for your mind & spirit

yep    ;-)

Click -- Amazon Kindle Version

A few lines …

… from several chapters. There’s more, of course.


Keep clean your spirit

Although the architecture of the mechanism is yet unknown, we can communicate with our Heavenly Father through prayer.


Patience is a virtue …

Patient eyes see the world differently. Gracious, tolerant, ever willing to forgive, shaped by gentle crinkly smiles, patient eyes reflect a spirit filled with understanding, confidence, and trust.


Grant me not …

Grant me not lesser trials, but rather greater strength to meet them. We all have trials. They are an essential part of life’s refining processes. Trials strip away our sense of stability and security.


More courage, please!

Who among us has not felt fear? Who has not experienced a sense of trembling uncertainty when the unknown looms dark and unfathomable before you? It is then that a measure of courage is among your heartfelt desires.


Thanks for the people

Fortunately, we are not alone in life, and can get help in learning how to fill the measure of our creation. We can model our behavior after the good people around us, especially our family and our contemporaries.


Going home …

Where Did I Come From?  … Why Am I Here? … Where Am I Going?  These are life’s most engaging questions. If you are not asking them now, perhaps you want to get started …


MC Johnston Jr, Judgement

The Judgment

Say it’s true. You are an eternal being. After you complete your mortal life, you return and report. Naturally, the goal is to have lived your life in such a manner as to face every future event with courage and confidence.


What’s Next?

GET READY!  The Rising Generation will lead the way, creating a million new jobs, restoring the American Dream and revivifying America’s brand, both domestic and international … say you’re with them, yes?

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What’s it like to die, Grandpa?

They’ve read the story–this is what they say.

Jake Lunt

Jake Lunt

Incredible story. I loved reading it and appreciate that you shared something so sacred with me. I’m glad you chose to come back.

Sharon Hinckley

Sharon Hinckley

WOW !!! What a wonderful explanation of life after this one! Thank you so much for sharing this with us.

John Pilmer

John Pilmer

An amazing treasure ...

Larry Windes

Larry Windes

When I was about five years old, mom would turn on the radio to the "Heart To Heart Hour" which was a weekly broadcast by the Rev. Leland Entrican. "Count Your Blessings" was the the theme song and has always been my favorite hymn. I love it still ... I also love what has happened to my dear friend Whittles. You have always been brilliant, but this light now has a glorious shine that embraces all who are fortunate enough to read this book. The necessary message herein is immediate as it is eternal. God bless you, we certainly do.

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Author’s Notes


‘Why’ & The ‘No Excuses’ Zone

Why Hey Grandpa!? I died, came back, and realized that every one of us will report on our mortal experience. The consequences of failing to tell my story would not be good when I arrive at …

The ‘No Excuses’ Zone – Most of us are pretty sure that we’re the center of the universe, and have not stopped to consider that we will account for our actions once we complete our voyage across the seas of mortality. There is no getting around it — sometime after landing on that far shore, we visit the “No Excuses” zone. Imagine what it will be like. Each of us will account for what did (or didn’t do) during mortality — you and whoever is sitting across the figurative table (know what I mean?) will both have a ‘perfect knowledge’ — knowing , without even being told,  – how our actions measured up with what we knew and what our conscience was telling us. No excuses, right?

So it makes sense that I would do my best to help people understand what I have learned … then you can make your own decisions and judgments, yes?

Autobiographical Summary & Private Life

I was born in post-WWII London. My parents were both journalists. Shortly after my birth, my mother and I  boarded the Queen Mary bound for the USA and Aspen, Colorado. My mother had first discovered Aspen in 1949 while on a U.S. Department of State assignment–she was a U.S. representative at the Goethe Bicentennial which was held in Aspen.  Albert Schweitzer travelled from Africa to attend the event.

Albert Schweitzer -- Goethe Bi-Centennial,   Summer 1949, Apen, Colorado  Photo taken by Ferenc Berko, Berko Studio

Albert Schweitzer — Goethe Bi-Centennial, Summer 1949, Apen, Colorado Photo taken by Ferenc Berko, Berko Studio

In 1951, my grandparents completed construction of the first new home to be built in Aspen since the turn of the century. It was my home base until the 1970s. Jimmy and Mary Johnston set a memorable example for me — I saw, first hand, that the greatest value in life was a successful marriage.  One of my life’s regrets is that my grandfather died when I was just thirteen.

When I think about Jimmy and Mary now that Catherine and I are as old as they were then, it is kind of funny — their marriage and personal understanding was a counterpoint to what Aspen later became. Nonetheless, then, as a community, Aspen had a different feel and focus in the fifties and early sixties than what I saw later — it became, as a friend once quipped, a town for the “chi-chi set.” I have my own opinions as to why that happened.

Still, in the wake of World War II, as men and women returned home, they sought normalcy, and above all, peace. They had logged years in which delivering death and wreaking destruction on a scale unparalleled in the history of mankind had become commonplace — no more than a day-to-day ‘business as usual’ pursuit. Upon the war’s conclusion, as its intensity gave way to relief, people were plagued with indelible memories … memories of those who had not survived, of times and  experiences that were not easily forgotten.

Replacing those memories with something else … something that would result in the realization of ‘peace’ with a capital ‘P,’ became a moral and ethical imperative.

‘Never again’ was an oft-repeated phrase — ‘never again.’  It was a conviction shared by many, many thoughtful people … including men like those of the United States Army’s Tenth Mountain Division. During the war, they had trained in the Colorado Rockies. Some found their way back to Aspen and found that Walter Paepke was asking, along with others, “How can we make peace last … a lasting priority?” In some hearts and minds, that question found a true and noble home.

I am not sure why it ‘took’ in Aspen, but a discussion of ‘Peace’ (not merely singing ‘Kum-bay-ya’ on a mountaintop, but understanding what it would take–socially, economically, in the hearts of people, as nations, etc.) is certainly part of what I remember growing up–not the only thing of course, but it was part of my formative years.

I grew up shuttling between Aspen and Denver. After graduating high school, there were layovers with my uncle and a beloved Proper English Auntie (everybody should have one) in Great Yarmouth, England, then back to Aspen and Scottsdale, Arizona where I worked for the architectural and development firm of Larry Windes & Associates. Larry, the author of the recent and acclaimed “Little Houses,” had a profound influence on not only my understanding of design and development necessities, but of life itself.  One of the high points of our work was traveling to Saudi Arabia and meeting with Sheik Hisham Nazer, then President of the Saudi Central Planning Organization, and later, the Saudi Oil Minister.

I moved on, and after a couple of years in Vail, a stint in Laurel Canyon and LA, (Computer Learning Center of Los Angeles) and a startup back in Denver (to help found ISEC — International Solar & Energy Conservation), I found my way to Utah to help start ‘Golden Technology.’ We built ADU”s. That’s renewable-energy speak for Alcohol Distillation Units. We made alcohol (for octane enhancement, not for drinking) and fed the brewers grains to dairy cattle. An LDS herdsman once remarked, “Why … these cows have never been happier in their lives — their eyes are brighter and their coats are shinier than I’ve ever seen!” And so they were!

Chicken Whittles – It was in Utah that I met and married the love of my life, Catherine. She is a New York girl who had come west; also a widow, also the mother of five children. Well before our first date, she made the priorities clear — “I wouldn’t any trade them [Kaira, Bridgit, Richard, Christian and Alexis] for the world.” She was right of course. Neither would I! Chicken (a nickname — no, not because she was ‘chicken’ in any way!) and I had two more (LeGrand and Mary).

I moved from Golden Technology to running a Utah-based chain of two ComputerLand stores. Catherine joined me. We won some great contracts, boosted sales by a few hundred percent, then moved again. We entered and helped pioneer the world of electronic publishing (Electronic Text Corporation was the first to combine a text retrieval program with an electronic book).  Catherine and I ended up taking over the  sales, marketing and support responsibilities for the underlying technology, a PC software program called WordCruncher, at the time the world’s most advanced text indexing, retrieval and analysis software–it was developed at Brigham Young University–it is still in use today.

We had a great time. We ran the business out of our home, saw our children grow up, and published thousands of different titles (ranging from the Federal Acquisition Regulations to the Complete Works of Shakespeare), and had many clients, including the Winston S. Churchill Family Trust, the Abraham Lincoln Association, and the Darwin Letters Project at Cambridge University Library. We had customers in thirty-plus countries. One thing led to another, and we ported WordCruncher to the Internet. At Networld 2000, representatives of Google came to our booth — we were the only other company that had a ‘multi-lingual hits-in-context’search engine. You know who won that battle!

Still, we gave it our best. We had gone public (just a mutt – OTCBB) and hit just shy of a half-billion dollar market cap, then fell back to earth with the other Go-Go 90′s Internet companies. That wasn’t the only thing that tumbled. I was standing in church a couple months after 9/11, and my back broke. They said I had cancer (Multi-Myeloma) and gave me two years to live. Catherine was having nothing of it, and hauled us off to Tahiti — “If you’re going to die, we’re going to make a memory,” she says. Catherine claims I am her Hezekiah. There’s more to the story, but that’s enough for now.

All that seems like a long time ago, and … as if it were just yesterday. Now, we are referred to as “Grandma and Grandpa”  (“Chicken Whittles”?), we’re a little creaky (seems to be increasingly so), and live in a small town nestled against the foothills of the Wastach Front with our Staffordshire Terrier, Phoenix. We see a lot of all our children, our grandchildren, and even our great-grandson. We have noticed that his Grandmother (our daughter–that takes getting used to!) seems to be quite taken with him.

“Eating chocolate ice-cream cones in our bed with our grandchildren — now that’s fun!”

I sell residential and commercial solar systems for Progressive Power Solutions, am busy on Hey Grandpa! Volume II, and make the occasional entry in TheNRGBlog. I also contemplate ‘the winds that blow against empires’ — it is no secret that I am both a “Failed Democrat” and a “Republican Who Knows Better” — we’re looking for a new political and ideological home, one that has a compelling vision for our future and for The Rising Generation — in whom, naturally, we have a vested interest.”

Both Catherine and I are members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and our oldest Grandson, Sean, is serving a Mission in Oregon.  

Until we meet again …


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