At some point, I was born. Here’s me and my father. I’m the one on the right. Sorry about the faded image.

A band director once called me the best sousaphone player in the state of South Carolina. That’s saying something, because those things are heavy. (To be fair, the ones we played way back when were mostly made of fiberglass).
If you meet me on the street and think I look familiar, it’s probably because you think I look like Andre Braugher.
Every so often, I do something foolish. Here’s a stylized photo of such an occasion, taken about two thousand feet in the air.

For the record: I am not the Philip Barron (also of St. Louis) who owns Phillip H. Barron Realty.
I am not Dr. Philip Barron, a New York-Based chiropractor. Nor am I Philip Barron, author of Cancer (part of The Natural Way series from Element Books).
I am not a staffer for Hearing Concern. I did not graduate in the class of 2005 from Keith Grammar School in the UK. I have never written an article for Edges Magazine that claimed that 24-hour society threatens family life.
And, to the best of my knowledge, I am not dead.
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