raig daniels
Book
A Memoir of Mischief, Mayhem, and Miracles
Book
9 Lives & Counting - A Memoir of Mischief, Mayhem, and Miracles
By all logic, Craig Daniels shouldn't be here.
At two, he was run over by a Buick.
At seven, he nearly lost an eye to a shotgun.
At seventeen, he almost lost his legs hopping a moving train.
By fifty-one, he had faced cancer three times.
Each time, he walked away—scraped, scarred, and still standing—never quite sure why he
got another turn.
9 Lives & Counting moves fast through a life defined by close calls, bad timing, and
decisions made without guarantees. From small-town Iowa streets to back roads, borders,
and years spent testing limits, Daniels recounts the moments that should have ended the
story—and didn't. What emerges isn't a tale of fearlessness, but of momentum: a refusal
to slow down, to wait for permission, or to live cautiously.
Running beneath the chaos is a quieter truth, passed down early and repeated often:
Don't miss your life.
He didn't.
Raw, unsentimental, and darkly funny, 9 Lives & Counting isn't a victory lap or a
cautionary tale. It's a record of what happens when luck holds—until it doesn't—and how
much life can fit between the near misses.
If you've ever looked back and thought, I shouldn't have made it through that, this book
is for you.
Coming in June 2026
Bidding High, Climbing Higher
One of my earliest memories begins at an auction — not because I wanted to be there, but because my mom and Grandma Johnson did. They liked old things. Objects with history. That afternoon, Mom had her eye on an antique doll trunk and was watching the bidding closely. Grandma whispered she’d go as high as thirty dollars. Mom was ready to add ten more if she had to.
She was focused on the auctioneer when a woman tugged on her coat.
"Is that your son in the tree?"
Mom looked up.
I had climbed nearly to the top of a tall evergreen — far higher than anyone thought a toddler should be. The branches formed a natural ladder, and I’d taken them one by one, without hesitation. I remember the height. The view. The feeling of being above the adults. Nothing about it felt dangerous. I was just climbing.
On the ground, people gathered. Adults clustered below, voices rising, all urging me to come down carefully.
I wasn’t scared.I wasn’t stuck.
I climbed back down the same way I'd gone up — steady, deliberate, calm — completely unaware of the fear I’d caused.
Once my feet were back on the ground, Mom returned to the auction and won the trunk. Thirty dollars from Grandma. Ten from her. That trunk still sits in my mom’s living room — a quiet artifact from a moment when two very different experiences occupied the same space.
Above: curiosity.Below: terror.
— excerpt from 9 Lives & Counting
Dragged by a Buick, Saved by Inches
Easter at our house was the usual kind of chaos — the men in the basement playing pool and cards, the women in the kitchen coordinating casseroles, and the cousins running wild in every direction. It was unseasonably warm that year, the kind of Iowa spring day that makes everyone drift toward the sunshine.
Dad had just installed a new basketball hoop on the front of the garage, and right before dinner, the men decided to head outside and shoot around. Everyone assumed I was in the basement with the other kids.
But I had slipped outside with my Big Wheel.
The Buick was parked in the driveway, blocking the "court,"" so Dad got in, started the engine, and eased forward to pull it into the garage.
He didn’t know I was directly in front of the car.
The front wheels never touched me.
Instead, the Buick's undercarriage glided over the top of my tiny body — close enough that later my mom said it made her knees buckle just thinking about it.
But the Big Wheel wasn’t so lucky.
As the car kept moving, the giant plastic trike began to tip and catch beneath the chassis. The bottom of the Buick started to drag and topple it, and I was tangled up in the handlebars and frame as it slid backward with me.
Then came the sound that saved my life —A long, ugly scrape of plastic grinding across concrete.
Dad stopped immediately.
He jumped out and saw the nightmare no parent is ready for:His toddler was tangled in a Big Wheel, dragged under the Buick's side, the trike wedged just inches in front of the left rear tire. One more second and the wheel would have rolled over me.
I was crying — scraped, terrified, confused — and Mom’s scream from the doorway hit harder than any impact would have. They scooped me up, loaded me into the same car that had just passed over me, and raced to Allen Hospital.
Miraculously, I walked away with only scrapes and bruises. No broken bones. No internal injuries. Just a family who aged a decade in ten seconds.
Easter dinner was late that year.And nobody complained.
— excerpt from 9 Lives & Counting