LOST & FOUND

I threw out my high school diploma years ago; curbed it with the regular trash. I’m not sure why I had done this.

—Why did the ancient mariner shoot the albatross?
—Why not?
—Because it was there.

I was pleasantly surprised when I discovered a “Young Author’s Award” tucked between the pages of a book I’d read long ago (James Dickey). It’s those things that we don’t readily see that end up surviving. I won this award two years in a row, 6th and 7th grade, and attended a Young Writers’ Conference at Malow Junior High School. What did I write about? Beats me. What I do know is that thirty-five years later and I have yet to attend another writing conference. Most of my stories are workshopped amongst the felons I teach.

On a different note, when I showed this certificate to my brother, he recalled Principal Cunningham’s daughter. When we were both in college, he dated her for a short period of time. Her first name escapes us.

As for the second, fairly current document written on prisoner stationery, it’s the misplaced work of a delusional individual. This is part of a much larger work that he is trying to get published. I wonder how long it will take before he discovers that his masterpiece is incomplete. Perhaps the story is so disjointed that it shouldn’t take away from his brilliance. I will say this: most of his time and energy is devoted to his art.