Olympic Dreams and the Writing Life

My induction into the National Honor Society was, um, an honor!

by Saxon Henry

The stiff Naugahyde sofa was unfriendly—cold to the skin at first, and then hot and sticky once the body warmed the fake leather. I never lasted long on the rotund cushions; I’d say there was a consistent ten-minute rule before I’d slide into the floor to use its hulk as a backrest. The coffee table matching its built-in Formica end tables, which capped narrow storage bins, made for a perfect desk as I did my homewor...