The following poem I share hesitantly. One of my favorite meal-time stories revolves around this poem. For after I wrote it, and read it to my 9th grade English Class, I wound up being asked to stay after school. In trouble? That’s what my fellow students thought. Instead, I was offered a career in an government agency that found interest in my love of codes and disciphering, my dabbling in speaking several foreign languages, and thought my plans at the time to be a foreign missionary would be a perfect cover to my “real” job. I’d tell you the rest of that true story, but then I’d have to kill you. (thats a joke!) Don’t want to risk my cover! In the end, after consulting with (duh) my parents, and even an “agent” of a foreign missions organization, I turned the offer down, including a scholarship to a college of my choice. But I have always been flattered that an agent on leave from the field, teaching high school English for one year as an undercover recruiter, would select me as a candidate. There’s more to the story, that must be saved for telling in person someday. But the assignment… Continue reading