The one and only time I put a knife in my pocket heading out to church was on Sunday, December 13, 1981. My mother, a single parent, was working a night shift, and my job at age eleven, in a true latchkey-kid fashion, was to get myself and my seven-year-old sister to holy mass. That was far from unusual. I was in charge on most Sunday mornings at that age. I’d usually wake up early, turn on channel one (of two), and watch cartoons for a few minutes before anything else. That morning, instead … Continue reading Writing Through Autocracy by Karol Lagodzki →