The Western Writers of America convention still runs through tomorrow, Saturday. I've enjoyed being in attendance, meeting people from all over the country and listening to their tales. One acquaintance made, Dr. Richard Slatta, is the son of my high school freshman English teacher, and my school superintendent, his father. Fortunately, I experienced great instruction in my English classes for all four years and now was pleasantly surprised to learn Mrs. Slatta still lives in Oregon, and though she doesn't see well, she at 102 years of age remains clear minded and plays the piano. He says he will ask her if she remembers me. My journey with learning the grammar of the English started in high school, and then in college it really received a boost: I took a year of German from a taskmaster named Frau Braun. I still remember studying very hard one night and like an epiphany the world of language usage seemed to unfold. I've grown rusty since I did not practice it enough in my working years, but it slowly returns and I have pleasant thoughts about the whole affair.
