Chronic Acts of Friendship
Dad would talk to anyone, even Kenny Rogers. No shit, Kenny Rogers. I was quite embarrassed actually. Not about meeting Kenny Rogers, but because of Dad’s chronic acts of friendship. He’d walk up to a stranger on the street with a familiar gambit, “Hi, I’m Wes Wilberg. What’s your name?”
The Real Story
A Different Headline
“Listen Kid, we all read the same story and write a different headline,” Oscar says. Steam from his cup of joe swirls between us. He flicks an ash from his Lucky Strike and looks at me. “The Common Council killed Urban Renewal tonight. The Feds asked Saginaw to clean up her act. That’s what my paper and I want our readers to know---”
About the Author
I write personal essays, creative non-fiction, flash fiction, and self-development articles from my home in Madison, Wisconsin.