I’m dyslexic. Oy. Not a convenient disability for a writer. And that, my friends, has been my biggest obstacle.
Impossible to overcome, it seemed. And it was (at least, without the help of technology.)
But I’ll get to that later.
First, let me tell you about the first time I realized I might have a talent for this–that maybe this writing thing could work out. I was in tenth grade, sitting in those metal desks that were designed to be painfully uncomfortable.
Cole, a reader, said something in a comment last week that reminded me of a story I’d heard years ago–a story of persistence.
But I’ll get to that later–the “why” of this story. First, let me start with the who.
(I promise, I’ll get to the “why.”)
I called Ron Gillum and asked if I could share a story he once told in church.
“I’m just going to come and ask some questions,” I said, “and take some pictures. How’s that sound?”
“Oh that sounds fine. I’m not much to look at. See, I used to be ugly. Now I’m ugly and old.” Read more »
