Welcome all!

That's it? That's all I could come up with? Boy - you'd think with the world at my fingertips I'd blow your mind with something totally original and thought-provoking. But no, the professional writer comes up with: Welcome all.

Who am I welcoming, anyway? And to what? And now that I have your attention, what should I say?

Let me tell you the truth of my life: I am not where I said I'd be 16 years ago.

Now don't go saying, Oh, he's gonna have one of those blogs. Just hear me out a minute.

Sixteen years ago I was sitting in Mrs. Rischmiller's class at St. Gregory the Great Elementary School. It was fifth grade, a time when boys were boys and girls were some subsection of the human genus unknown to boys. I enjoyed a place somewhere near the top of my class with that final echelon close within my grasp - a 94 average and above-average reading scores. When your mom's a teacher, that kind of thing means a lot at age 10.

Having a high average in class meant having to hide from people the fact that I was completely, utterly and by all accounts definitely devoid of talent. It was true. I had nothing to offer. I was a letdown in sports, enjoyed little popularity and, damn Irish genes, was smaller that most of the other boys. I just barked like a dog in the library a lot. That always got my friends laughing.

One day I was hit with a terrible surprise: Fate, it turned out, found my address. It was knocking very loudly on Mrs. Rischmiller's wood-and-glass door.

It was an assignment: Write an essay on how you will change the world.

What? Change the world? Mom still needs to teach me the whole shoe-tying thing!!! And I'm pretty sure I still don't know right from left!

I sallied. You might say I sallied forth.

How I will change the world, by Bryan Mahoney (a synopsis)
I will change the world by traveling to Ethiopia where the starving people are. I don't have much money so I can't buy them things. I'm not very strong so I can't carry them to a hospital. But my grandpa and I like to tell jokes. Some of them are very funny. I would tell the people of Ethiopia jokes and one day, maybe, they would smile. That is how I will change the world.

I will not post the particulars here, though I remember very clearly the reaction from Mrs. Rischmiller. She cried.

That day I knew my power would never rest in my arms, or my legs, or my back (I am, however, six-foot one-inch and quite healthy). My power would remain in my words, and in my heart.

By now, I was supposed to have won a Nobel Peace Prize for literature. But I'll take your attention as a fair trade. Thanks for reading.