I'm from Springfield -- third generation. I grew up in Springfield. Played backyard football in Springfield with my future groomsman. I went to Springfield North High School (Go, Panthers!) where I ran cross-country with spirited mediocrity and sat in class with kids whose parents were doctors, lawyers, farmers, and line workers. I knew one kid whose family raised pigs and another whose dad fenced stolen goods. I watched Robocop in the current mayor's basement. Or maybe it was Predator.

I live in Los Angeles now, where I write children's books. My first novel, A Drop of Hope, is a love letter to Springfield and the people in it. Like many love letters, it comes with its share of heartbreak. I won't pretend that Springfield doesn't have its problems or struggles. But it's certainly not the ridiculous, George Miller hellscape that certain idiots would have you believe.

Springfield is a Harvester town and a college town. It's an upbeat John Mellencamp song and a melancholy Bruce Springsteen song. And sometimes it's an episode of The Twilight Zone (Rod Serling, in fact, went to college down the road, in Yellow Springs). It's a town in which any where in it you go, you're apt to run into somebody you know. Results may vary on that one.