Two vivid memories from my childhood-my father, no matter how tired he was, read to me every night. Not fairy tales. All the wonderful classics. When I wrote my first story at six, he told me God had given me the gift and it was my obligation to use it. He died when I was 10.
(I want to share something about writers. For most of us it isn't about money, or fame or attention. It's about the story. If I can make someone laugh or smile or recall a good memory or make them think-then I have done my job. And my n key is sticking so excuse that. Keyboard must be retired soon)
My olther memory is about the toaster. We lived in the tenements in St. Louis and cockroaches were a way of life. You had to turn the toaster on twice. The first time so all the roaches would run out of it-the second time to toast the bread. And when you turned the oven on! It was like a scene from Exodus.
But even at the worst-being homeless, being cut off from my family-forever-because I was crazy, I was still better off than 9/10s of the world. I've always lived at the poverty level or below. My luxuries now-
finding great clothes at the thrift stores or the charity places. My home is basically furnished from those places and I love it.
The hairdresser, new shoes, really nice spices. and the ultimate-a pedicure! Once you reach a certai age, twisting your body into all those convaluted positions is just not feasible anymore.
God knows I am greatful for my home, my health, the VA, etc.
And the thing I am most greatful for tonight? That I found all of you.