A Takes A Village (Part 2)

There I stood, stupefied.  I wanted to run, but I was too scared.  I knew Mrs. Cavellini could catch me like she caught the others, and that would only would make it that much worse for me.

She was in her early '40's then.  Dark hair and olive skin.  She was short, but with a lithe and athletic build. Her green eyes seem to go right through you when she was angry, which seemed to be always.

She walked towards me, stopping about 2 feet away.

"Why do you kids do this?!"  She said in her slightly accented English. "I tell you no play here but you play anyway!"

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Cavellini. I didn't...." She cut me off before I could finish my sentence.

It Takes A Village (Part 1)

I was relating a funny story to my son about something that happened to me when I was a boy his age. After telling it, he said I should write about it, so here is it is.

Kids today are spoiled. You can't even yell at kid without someone butting in and telling you are abusive.  Some people raise eyebrows just to the fact you looked at your child at what is perceived as a menacing manner.

When I was a young boy, I was lucky if I even got to my mom intact if I did something boneheaded.

Here is one example on what I mean.

The Genesis Of A Muse

As long as I have been writing, something has inspired me to put the words down one way or the other. My very first time I tried a hand in writing something creative, I scribed a poem for a pretty girl in my class. 

Her name was Carmen and I thought I would marry her, something that usually doesn't cross the mind of a ten year old boy. She moved away soon after, but I wrote a few stories on how she was a princess and I was the knight that rescued her.

So that was my first muse.