I was born in 1947. As a kid, I read books. I remember reading Nancy Drew, Tom Sawyer, Huck Finn, and Sherlock Holmes. Libraries were a second home for me. Nowadays I still read every chance I get, although I read magazines and newspapers, not books. In fact, I can't even remember the last book I read for pleasure. I can tell you the one book in my life that I remember best--Catch-22. It's clever, funny, sad, and true. Of course, there are thousands of great books out there; every reader has his or her favorite. I wish I had the time to read them all. That would be heaven, wouldn't it?--turning the pages of enjoyable books, forever. I used to love the comics page in newspapers. The Sunday comics were especially lovable, because they were in "living" color. I loved Beetle Bailey, Dick Tracy, Barney Google, and Li'l Abner. I loved MAD Magazine (still do). As a kid, I wanted to be a writer. To write the Great American Novel, of course. I loved pens. Growing up, I used fountain pens, "fountain" pens with a plastic ink cartridge in them, and finally ballpoint pens. I owned several different typewriters. My favorite was a little Olivetti. My last typewriter was an IBM Selectric. That typewriter, having no keys, was as amazing as the Bic ballpoint pen years earlier. Like many others, I've seen amazing things in my lifetime. But that's part of the problem, for my own life, at least. I've been a spectator for way too long. Reading books, magazines, newspapers; watching TV; browsing the Internet. Watching, not doing. Taking, not giving. Absorbing, not creating. At some point (only a few years ago, unfortunately), I realized how little I had contributed to this amazing world. Yes, I've taught ESL to hundreds of students over the past two decades. By helping them improve their English, I've made a small contribution. Teachers do contribute, of course. Most more than I, I'm sure. Now, one story at a time, I have written this book. It's another small contribution.