I first learned about my place in this world through a Lionel train set. Every Christmas while I was growing up, a Lionel train set ran around the base of our family tree. Until recently, I would have told you that every year as we set the train up, I heard my mother explain that it was the train my father bought before I was born. “It was going to be yours if you were a boy,” my mother said….
For years, when I taught English, I tried to hide my profession because whenever I met someone new, I often heard an embarrassed plea, “Oh, please don’t correct my English; I’m terrible at grammar!” I would quickly assure the person that I only corrected papers turned in for grades, so worry was needless. And I was speaking truth–I never noticed problems with spoken English, and didn’t feel responsible for correcting anything written (newspapers, magazines, letters) unless someone specifically asked me…
Every morning my cat Minerva drives me nuts. The moment I sit down at the kitchen table, she starts jumping up on it. And I start telling her–in no uncertain terms–to get down. “No,” I shout, and if I’m lucky, she jumps to the floor. Then, in less than 30 seconds, she jumps up again. “No, down,” I shout (she never responds to less than a shout), but it never works a second time. So I grab the nearby squirt…