By freshman year of high school, I’d pretty much given up on the world. For my author emphasis assignment, I did it on William Shatner. I knew he didn’t write good books, but he fit the requirements for the assignment and I was able to use a great butterfly collar publicity photo of him for the cover. Inspiration is such a funny word to throw around. To even have in language anymore. Who’s inspiring out there? It’s supposed to be politicians but I grew up in the eighties. I knew they weren’t inspiring. But people still inspire. It’s kind of neat—worthwhile even—but appreciating people, celebrating them, it keeps the soul warmer than pretending something is going to magic this world better.