When I was little, I wanted to be a kindergarten teacher. No joke!  I also wanted to be a writer, and I had a notion that the two goals could be harmonized.

During college, I had to take a pre-teaching lab.  I worked with pre-school mentally retarded children. My heart just melted! I have pictures of the classroom: Little boys rolled in blankets, peeping out from the edges with beautiful smiles and shining eyes.  One girl who never spoke but climbed in my lap and sucked her thumb.  A tiny tiny five year old, diagnosed with some genetic disorder, who wore diapers at age 5.

I dropped out of the lab and switched my major to psychology.  I couldn’t take the painful partings each day; I knew my emotions would not withstand the heartbreak of working with little children if any of them had issues like the kids in my pre-teaching lab.

I made my way to law, where I’ve spent 30 years.  For the last five, I’ve struggled to find a balance between the practice of law and reclaiming writing. I never went back to teaching, except for volunteering in GED programs.

Now I have a new career goal. I want to head the Universal Complaint Department!  Anyone with a complaint — step right up!  But my unit will have a twist:  You leave your complaints in the Complaint Book. You write as much as you want, in the strongest, most vile language you like.  Then — you walk away.  We don’t address your complaint so much as relieving you of the burden of carrying it around!

I’d do this for no pay, even.  Keeper of Complaints!  That’s me!