From Mary Presby
Years ago, as I was churning out my own my book, I felt a bit discouraged, stuck. Les went to blackboard in class and wrote the title of my book on the blackboard. Below the title he wrote, “A novel.” and below that, my name. He gave me a look of approval and support. He inspired me, supported me, and believed in me. I loved him dearly. I have a recurring vision of Les approaching me and it’s cold and he needs a sweater. Why did I not see how cold he was and how sad he felt? Why?