A wet breeze ruffled my red, white and blue tassel as I stood behind the bleachers with a clipboard, lining up my classmates for graduation—my last duty as vice president of the New Smyrna Beach High School Class of 1976. Ordinary kids from small-town, ocean-side...
David Lossing peered at me through his glasses, mad professor hair springing from his scalp. “The same kids have been running the class since middle school. Pick an office. I don’t care which. Just throw your name into the race.” I’d only attended New Smyrna Beach...
On Tuesday, April 22, 1975, my creative writing class of eleven students clambered into a New Smyrna Beach High School van to visit Jonathan Livingston Seagull author Richard Bach. Jonathan had spent 38 weeks on The New York Times Best Seller List, appeared on...
The smallest bridge in New Smyrna Beach, rising less than six feet from Washington Street, might as well have been the Sunshine Skyway over Tampa Bay. My shoulders bunched with tension and my knuckles whitened on the stick shift as I eyed the first “hill” in my...
David Lossing peered at me through his glasses, mad professor hair springing from his scalp. “The same kids have been running the class since middle school. Pick an office. I don’t care which. Just throw your name into the race.” I’d only attended New Smyrna Beach...
