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Author
James Ross
“Jimmy, quit telling tall tales!” was my mother’s frequent admonition when I was a boy. It took several decades before she begrudgingly accepted that she might have produced a writer and not a future politician. The capitulation took place at my dining room table where she and I were listening to her six-year-old grandson practice his newly acquired reading skill by reciting the contents of my junk mail. When he got to a letter from the South Dakota Review and began to read in his hesitant first grader’s voice, “Dear… Mr… Ross. We… are… delighted…” I saw first-hand proof that jaw dropping is not just a figure of speech.
