Once upon a time, I peeled back layers of old carpet to an era when people used newspapers to line wooden floors. I found a reporter from the 1930s with my first name that he also used as his last. All of a sudden, while recalling memories, I slipped through the gift of imagination and fell from the starry night skies to a parallel universe where dreams come true. I recalled making a wish to live my life like a great American novel, one reading like a comic book worthy of the shelves of The Public Library, my childhood Fortress of Solitude. Ms. Raeside, my 6th grade English teacher, believed I would do it in the near future. Just write what you know, she advised. I know television. Ka-Pow!
