A LESSON FROM THE GARGOYLE

Even after reading just two pages of the Gargoyle, the student-run humor magazine at the University of Michigan, she knew she wanted to be part of it. She sought out the office, knocked on the door, and asked if she could come in. Somebody said, “Why not?” She took it to mean yes. The room

FOOD FOR THOUGHT

  Recess at Reservoir Avenue School wasn’t much fun for her. As a chunky klutzy kid, she was among the last to be chosen for group games. She wasn’t very good at jumping rope because her feet and the rope would entangle. She usually avoided playing marbles because she didn’t want to risk losing her

A True Confession

Roses are red. Violets are bluish. All of She‘s stories Are moderately truish.     Image viw public-domain-image.com

TACT AND OTHER NICETIES

There was once a judge who always listened with great interest. First he would hear the prosecution’s case, consider the argument, nod, and say, “Hmm, you may be right.” Then he would listen just as carefully to the defense, nod, and say, “Hmm, you may be right.” Finally, one of the lawyers, in a passion

Miss Moore and the Miracle

Reservoir Avenue School was a red brick, two-story building for students in grades kindergarten to fifth. Miss Moore taught second grade, and everybody knew about Miss Moore. Miss Moore once got mad at a boy and choked him around the neck so hard that blood came out of his mouth, and he died. That’s what

IT’S ALL IN THE CARDS

          Some time ago she read of a woman who could read the newspaper through her fingertips. Amazing, if true, she thought she wondered if she could duplicate the feat. Starting with the newspaper seemed much too daunting. Even a book seemed too much of a hurdle. She would start with

THE WOEFUL RANT OF THE WRATHFUL WRAITH

Once she was young and eager. Her future could not have been brighter. Until she fell to literary hell, And emerged as a ghostwriter. Pity that poor ghostwriter. Hear her pitiful moan. She brought you fame and a trademark name. Yet she remains unknown. Give heed to that sad ghostwriter. Respond to her high whine.

ONE HUNDRED, SIXTY-SIX WORDS and ten numbers

Sometimes it’s challenging to give advice. Her children shun her attempts because they know everything about everything anyhow. Her contemporaries, as hard of hearing as she, are a lost cause. But then, there is her writers’ group, a captive audience if ever there was one. Here are ten things she knows are true:

A LESSON LEARNED

She is in a very long, very slow-moving check-out line at the fabric, etc. store. On one side is a display of candy. On the other side, rows of inexpensive and useless sewing gadgets, toys, and decorations — the kind of things one thinks one needs until one gets home and realizes what a waste

STRUTTIN’ HER STUFF

When one of the icons lit up on her dashboard, She was almost certain it meant a low tire. However, to be absolutely certain and before She filled it herself, she stopped at the nearest gas station and explained her plight to the service manager. “Yup,” he said, opening her door and peering in, “That’s