I used to love to write when I was younger. Since then I have taken many paths and wound up on a ship in the middle of the inside waters of southeast Alaska, as an engineer--which has somehow synonymously, for me, become the ultimate in anti-literary career paths. I have not written anything in years, although I believe I have always had an ache to. I have no idea what I would write if I did. I suppose I like the old detective stuff--gritty. I liked Charles Bukowski before he was cool. I remember how I got started liking to write, though, and it was because of a beautiful woman teacher in a little Junior College in Modesto California. I was a high-school dropout, who knew little about grammar and writing when I attended her class, an ESL class, because I had done so poorly on the entrance exams. This woman, Lilian, wove the most wonderful praise into the margins of all my stories and delicately corrected my grammar and spelling. She made me want to write more. She was a fairy godmother of a teacher. I went on to attend honors English classes and to become an English tutor at that school, before moving on to become a long-haul truck-driver, which was the next leg of my journey. Well, I'm on break, at work, at this very moment; somehow while I was internet-day-dreaming I wound up here on your site, and wanted to say hello. I have to go now, bilges to clean, hi ho.