This all started in sixth grade when my teacher told us to quiet down or he’d make us all write an essay on the weather.  I politely wrote him a note that said I would have preferred to write that essay over whatever it was that we were doing.  For years after that, I sent him my poems (which should have been burned) and other musings.  He always replied with a note encouraging me to write more.  Thank you, Father Abraham.

Being from a practical family, I went to college for computers instead of literature, although I did take the one creative writing class that the school offered.  I started as a technical writer wearing suits and heels. After a few years, I transformed into someone who had a hard time finding clean sweatpants to wear.  I was a stay-at-home mom in the early 90’s doing my best to raise children who would not become ax murderers.

When I needed to return to the work force ahead of schedule due to divorce, I found my computer mainframe experience was outdated in a world that had moved on to personal computers.  Since no employer believed that I could quickly learn the new technology, I did what any literate nerd would do – I went to massage school.  My parents politely said nothing, but I’m sure they thought that massage school was some kind of cult.  Remember, this was still the 90’s.

Years later, a retired teacher who I respect and admire, encouraged me to write down my stories.  She thought that someone who was a mom, or anyone who had been a kid, might enjoy them.  Thank you, Joyce Rubin, for helping us learn and grow!  (I’m sure there are many other non-students like me whose lives you’ve enhanced along with all of your students.) This blog wouldn’t exist without your kind words.

If you’re curious, find out other stuff I do.