Michael and Susan at our son-in-law's graduation.

I like writing. I know many people say that, but in all honesty, writing has changed my life in hugely significant ways.

Third grade adventures in writing

The first time I wrote anything that made a difference was in 3rd grade. I was a transfer student from a school where I had the reputation of being a troubled child. These days, I would have been sent to the office or the counselor or the psychologist for serious conversations. But that was then, and that didn’t happen.

When I got to Mrs. LaFleur’s 3rd-grade classroom in my new school, we had an assignment to write a story about our family. Not long, a few sentences. I was a very active kid and had already been punished numerous times for sitting inappropriately at my desk. But this day, when the assignments came back, mine was not returned. Instead, Mrs. LaFleur put a gold star on my paper and stapled it to the bulletin board along with some of the other “well-written” paragraphs.

That gold star changed my life right then and there. Here was something I could do and get rewarded for.

Somebody, somewhere in my new school, figured that since I could write, I might also be able to read well. At the end of third grade, they gave me the 8th-grade end-of-year language exams, and by the time I was in 6th grade, I was doing the 11th-grade language exams.

I had found my place in the world

Not that I didn’t detour along the way to adulthood, I certainly did. But also, along the way, I managed to write a ton, maybe even a ton and a half—plays, one-man shows, books, fundraising letters for politicians, songs, poems, speeches, and thousands of pieces for the internet.

At age 9, I became fascinated with words and language and have remained so to this day. My wife and I fell in love over the course of 2600 emails and spent 18 incredible years together until she passed away.

Words are powerful; they are magic, and they make a difference.

I like that.