About

I am a writer, storyteller, living Pura Vida in Costa Rica with my wife and dog, Lucky. My work explores themes of survival, reinvention, and the courage it takes to become the person you were meant to be.

I grew up in a house where love and violence lived side by side. My father was a complicated man—well-educated, hardworking, and capable of both tenderness and explosive rage.

As the oldest of five children, I learned to read a room the way other boys read box scores. When things got dangerous at home, I grabbed my baseball glove and disappeared into the nearest field.

Baseball became my sanctuary. When I was eleven, my glove went missing. For weeks, I borrowed a glove just to keep playing. It was humbling for a kid who already felt invisible. But I loved the game. It was my escape.

I begged my parents for a new glove, promising a lifetime of chores. When they finally agreed, there was a catch: I had to print my last name on it, “Hawkesworth.”

My name is too long. It would cover the whole glove and ruin the beautiful leather look. After days of agonizing, I made a choice that would define me for a lifetime. I printed H-A-W-K—one letter on each finger, facing out toward the batter.

From that day on, everyone called me Hawk. The name stuck. It became the armor I needed.

My life has been restless and wide-ranging. Born in South Bend, Indiana, I have lived across the United States from Idaho to Florida, Delaware to Arizona and traveled through Mexico, Europe, China, and finally Costa Rica, where I found my home.

I earned a degree in communications from Rowan University and served as a Commissioned Officer during Desert Storm and Public Affairs Officer in the Delaware National Guard.

Over the years, I owned a café in Delaware, a trucking company in Wyoming, and a Sylvan Learning Center in Utah.

I raised three entrepreneurial children and now have seven grandchildren that carry that same restless spark. Entrepreneurship runs deep in my family, all the way back to our ancestor, Josiah Wedgwood.

But despite the successes, something inside me remained unsettled. I was living for others. Performing a life that looked right on paper but felt hollow in my heart.

When COVID hit, I lost my job and faced the dark night of the soul. And in that silence, I heard the call: I was a writer.

Writing was the only thing that quieted the voice within. It soothed my soul. It was the work I had been avoiding my entire life because it felt too vulnerable, too uncertain, too me.

So, at sixty-two, I started over.

I sold everything that would not fit into a suitcase and moved to Costa Rica with my loyal dog, Lucky. I took a leap of faith. I stopped pretending. I stopped forcing myself to be something I was not meant to be.

I met and married a wonderful Tica, and together we are building a life on a small farm. I am a content writer for autism clinics in Chicago, and I am finishing my first novel. I am writing.

Before my father died, he quit drinking, changed his life, and asked for forgiveness. I gave it to him, and I am glad I did. It was not to erase the past, but to stop carrying it.

Forgiveness does not undo what happened. It frees you from what happened. People can change and we all deserve a second chance.

George Eliot wrote, “It is never too late to be what you might have been.” I am living proof.

Your story is not set in stone. You control the narrative.

No matter what your age or circumstances, you can rewrite your life and become the person you were meant to be. And sometimes, the thing you have been running from is exactly what you need to run towards.

Today, I am as enthusiastic about my writing as that eleven-year-old boy who humbly borrowed a glove just to keep playing.

Currently: Finishing my debut novel | Writing content for autism advocacy | Living pura vida in Costa Rica