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I needed to return to the work force ahead of schedule due to divorce, I found my computer mainframe experience was outdated in a world that had moved on to personal computers.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.