And so now I write. Actually, I have written in some form for a good part of my life. I remember my first published story. I was nine years old. The story was about a weenie roast (what would now be referred to as a backyard barbecue). But we called it a weenie roast. It consisted of hot dogs and Boston Baked Beans that my mother made. The beans and white bread were the only two things she ever cooked well as I recall. Anyway, it was a 4th of July weenie roast and for some reason that I don’t recall, I wanted to write a story about it. I don’t remember anything about the story but my mother thought it was good enough to be published. She was a writer and had written many little stories that were published in Catholic magazines. She submitted it to one of those magazines and it was published. The reason I really remember it was because I received a letter from a girl in Canada who had read the story and was horrified that we were eating meat on Friday! Continue Reading →
