He had a diploma. He had ideas. He had time on his hands. He started a blog.He had the knack. He followed the conversations. He enjoyed the process. He wrote strong entries with weak headlines. It was ... [+]
On the days I visited the care center, I'd walk past this used bookshop on a quiet sidestreet. There were these four books in the shop window that always caught my eye. Other books would come and go but not these four. They stood on their own little shelf in the middle of the window, like treasures somebody might want rather than the landfill-in-waiting they were. Every time I passed the shop I couldn't help checking to see if they were still there. I hated those books. The Competitive Lawn Bowler. Let's Surf the Net! The Esther Williams Story. Something called Prairie Looms: An Oral History.