I was away last week, which meant more reading time.
Writing time … not so much.
I swear my ninth grade English teacher read us a story by Beth Goobie way back in 1994. I have no proof of this though. Once, years later, I contacted said English teacher about another story she read to us (takes place I think in Poland, on a shetl, and a man lies down on railroad tracks because a girl won’t date him) and she said I was misremembering, that never happened, and she had no memory of reading us that story. So maybe she didn’t read us also a Beth Goobie story. I don’t know. My memory is lost.