Moths are very ugly creatures. At least that is what I always thought until a reliable source told me otherwise. When I was about five or six years ol...
It was my first day as newcomer to Miss Hargrove’s seventh grade. Past newcomer” experiences had been difficult, so I was very anxious to ...
I was doing a guest writing workshop at Susanville State Prison near the Sierra Nevada foothills in northern California. Most of the men doing time th...
My senior year of high school was an extremely hectic one, to say the least. If I wasn’t studying and worrying about my grades, I was juggling m...
It seems to me that all writers, including those who deserve to be classified as geniuses, need encouragement, particularly in their early years. I al...
At first glance, Ronny looked like every other kid in the first-grade classroom where I volunteered as the Reading Mom. Wind-blown hair, scuffed shoes...
I was minding my own business a few weeks ago when I got the call” -- that dreaded, shrill ringing of my telephone bearing news just short of a ...
When I was in junior high, the eighth-grade bully punched me in the stomach. Not only did it hurt and make me angry, but the embarrassment and humilia...
Forty-three years seems like a long time to remember the name of a mere acquaintance. I have duly forgotten the name of an old lady who was a customer...
When I was growing up, my father always stopped what he was doing and listened while I'd breathlessly fill him in on my day. For him, no subject w...