Mother’s Day

On a bright summer day in 1953, Susanna Fornoff walked into the print shop where my father had worked as a typesetter ever since his 1947 release as a prisoner of war. She was looking for part-time work, to supplement her modeling assignments and serving meals at a local Gasthaus. She was hired. My father was smitten.

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Writing the Truth

Maddie Lock

The email from my father began: It is with a heavy heart that I write this… I quickly scanned the German words. My knees buckled as my world plummeted to a depth that had me gasping for air. I understood immediately I had overstepped my writing boundaries.

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Chasing the ’Writing High’

Maddie Lock

Every day that I don’t write is a wasted one. There’s writing and there’s everything else. This creates a spiritual conflict.

Let me explain. I am a student of Buddhism now for four years. I call myself a student because I have yet to step over any definitive line that allows me to call myself…

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