Once upon a time, my 6^th grade English teacher believed I would write the next great American Novel in a far away future where science fiction becomes fact. Just write what you know, she encouraged as I looked out to the burnt out buildings of The South Bronx.

I know television.

I crawled into a TV set abandoned in a backyard of wild grass.

I looked out and finally saw the burnt out buildings. That was the day I decided to become a mild mannered reporter. Like a war correspondent, I positioned myself in front of a supermarket and ambushed customers. “You think The Yankees are going to win this year?” the boy I was asked with microphone held up to the adults with smiles that left the borders of their faces and The Bronx.  “For CBS News, I’m Danny Aponte”

The sad part was I’ve never been to Yankee Stadium 20 blocks or so from where I lived. It was neglect due to my mother’s husband who took his mistress to Puerto Rico for a 3-week vacation every summer. That resulted in my poor suffering mother allowing me to go pass Star Trek to hear HERE’S JOHNNY!!!

“ A Puerto Rican, a Jew and a black man,” I said to the other kids ala The Great Karnak with a sealed envelope held to my turban.

For the punch line, you have to wait for me to get published

“We don’t publish stories about minorities, snarled a woman from her phone at a major league publishing company. She hung up after coldly asking is there anything else.

Cool.

Get your story right, said Walter Cronkite

This is just the first draft, Uncle Walt

And I think I got it right.