Author: John Morgan

John Morgan

Married for a bunch of years, John Morgan is the father of two school-age boys. He teaches creative writing and British literature at St. Catherine’s School. Other than words, he loves vintage drums, cars, and Ringo Starr’s backbeat.

On a special December Saturday in 1983, Dad woke up early to warm up the Toyota. By seven o’clock, my sister Susan and I were inside the car. Then, we…

The summer of 1986 meant riding my Schwinn Thrasher eight blocks to Lafayette Pharmacy where I cashed in my nickels for a bag of assorted Jolly Ranchers. The loot cost…

Three years ago, I drove to North Carolina, met a stranger through Craigslist, and brought home a Boston terrier puppy. That was the breed of our dog years ago, so…

John Morgan

Atticus, you need a sport.” “Is rock ‘n roll a sport?” We were having a bedtime conversation. But before I answered, I thought about Mick and Keith, who still throw…

John Morgan

Dad, I want to go to Diamonds Direct.” “Why?” “Because I need a crystal to make a lightsaber.” The engine of any Jedi’s sword is a special gemstone that bottles…

John Morgan

As a cadet at VMI, fall made me anxious. While others were tidying up the frat house or skipping that first-period seminar, I was sprinting back to barracks and diving…

John Morgan

A couple of years ago, my wife Dawn spied a stainless steel pail on Pinterest. Next thing I knew, it was living by our kitchen sink, holding eggshell shrapnel and…

John Morgan

Christmas was different in San Francisco. Pre-kids, we spent our free time gliding through Chinatown, holding hands, searching for the best dim sum. And though we bought a pink, plastic…