At the college I attended, in addition to completing required courses in your major—mine being English—students also submitted a portfolio of their best work, which after the approval of an academic Board of professors qualified them for graduation. Tucked inside my portfolio, I still have an orange 3 x 5 card on which one of my professors wrote: A beautiful body of work—I’m proud of you and feel lucky to be one of your readers. . . . I hope you continue writing and try to start publishing. You have talent, and heart, and wonderful wit; and equally important, you…
I was visiting my elderly Dad in the nursing home when out of the blue he said, “You should have won that Spanish award in high school.” I looked at him in stunned silence . . . His words felt like someone trying to pick at the scar and re-open a wound from long ago. “You remember that?” I finally said. “Of course,” he replied. “We all knew you were the top Spanish student senior year, yet I never understood why the award went to someone else.” I could only shake my head in disbelief and smile. If only I’d heard…
