In my last post about writing with dyslexia, I mentioned my brother (Jordan) recommended I fill my journal with stories. Jordan was a master at this. I thought it’d be fun to share one of the stories he shared with me in one of his letters (complete with Jordan’s own illustrations). So, without further delay, Jordan… Read more »
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 »
I didn’t really “fit in” in elementary school. I was scrawny, awkward, and couldn’t afford nice enough clothes to avoid the taunting of my fellow pygmys. I had two outfits that “worked,” and I wore these on rotation, hoping nobody would notice that Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays were “Rose Bowl Sweats” days, and Tuesdays and Thursdays were “long-sleeved, Pseudo-pajama Superman shirt” days. (When spring came around, I was reaaaaaaaly screwed.) Read more »
I’m not a fan of public proclamations of love. I recently heard of a man who declared on facebook how much he loved his wife then shot her the same day. Real smooth, dude. That ain’t love.
These public proclamations have become a thing to do–like visit the grocery store or take the dog for a walk. Too many people do it without thinking of what it means.
But my wife likes them. Aaaaaaand it’s her birthday. And it’s the ten year anniversary since we met. So, indulge me for 2500 words as I tell you the story of us.
