Home Sweet Home is not just a story about where I come from. It is a story about how a man is formed—by family, by hardship, by faith, and by the quiet lessons that stay with him long after childhood fades.

Names carry weight. I learned that before I could spell my own.
I was born Rufus. My grandmother decided I would be Frank. That decision, made before I had a say, taught me something I didn’t understand until much later

Grit came from walking behind older men in the woods, carrying rabbits for supper. It came from cotton fields, from empty stew pots, and from learning that quitting wasn’t an option anyone respected.

One of the most important lessons of my life came on a school playground, not a battlefield.
I didn’t win that fight because I was bigger or stronger. I won because someone believed in me enough to tell me to stand up for myself.

I didn’t chase danger. I chased purpose.
From the Marine Corps to the Florida Highway Patrol, service gave structure to the discipline I learned as a boy. It gave meaning to struggle and direction to strength.