We are all authors of our own life's story, dutifully crafting each chapter, sometimes in harmony with a disciplined plot line, but more often than not simply reacting to the accidents of fate that appear without warning at the end of one chapter or the beginning of the next. And although few but our family and friends will share in the unfolding tale as we live each sentence and paragraph that does not diminish the importance of having been here; of living and loving, of laughing and crying, and yes, eventually, dying. Millions of us get up each day to write the next chapter in the book of our lives without fanfare or promise, but there are some, perhaps braver than the rest, perhaps more egotistical, or more likely simply afraid of being forgotten, who are not content to let the mark of their having passed this way to be etched solely in the minds and memories of those who loved them. Instead they seek to leave a more permanent imprint, however tiny and insignificant it may be, upon the collective narrative of mankind. Most don't write the story of their own lives, because these would be dry or tortured…
