58

Mar 27, 2004

My mother’s birthday was today, and I’ll be late once again in sending her a card or gift. I spoke with her this afternoon, me in the hotel lobby watching the rains drench Minneapolis and she sitting in her car in Holland, Michigan, and I realized that I’m here with my journalism colleagues because my mother inspired me to be a writer in fifth grade. She was my teacher then, at St. Paul School in Nampa, Idaho, and she made me write a short story about the first snowflake (thankfully, snowflakes were nowhere to be seen here in MN today) falling to the ground at the vanguard of a snow flurry. I’ve always remembered that story, because it was the first time that I felt words flowing from me. I just spent the last hour in a cafe editing my thesis article, and my excitement at words that fall onto a page is just as it was back in fifth grade with Mrs. Cheryl Zuiker as my teacher. Mom, happy birthday.

Anton Zuiker ☄