I never win anything; if I’d bet on the tortoise, the hare would have won. People hate to g
Back in 1992, I wrote a story about my dad and entered it in a writing competition. I don't remember how I found the Writers' Federation of Nova Scotia's annual contest, perhaps in the newspaper.
I was a slow learner.
That's the word that stumped me in the Oakland Public Schools' spelling contest of 1956, when I was eleven and attending Lincoln School, near our home in Chinatown.
You know those sister plaques?
One of my favorite memories of my father was the autumn when I was 15 and living with my parents and five brothers and four sisters in the little town of Waverly, Ohio at the foo
I can't say that I've really won anything other than once many years ago on a warm spring afternoon. My gas tank empty I stopped at a convenience store/gas stop and stepped inside to buy a scratc
I will write about the time I won a scholarship to a writing school for one month at the Summer School of the Arts in Qu'Appelle Valley, instructed by Ken Mitchell of Regina, Saskatchewan.
The year was 1979. I was retained on a softball team with a bunch of guys who were weary of my complaints about their racist and anti-semitic jokes because I was too valuable to dump. Their
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