For as long as I remember, I have loved words. At five years old, I, peered over my parents’ shoulders from the back seat of our pink Chevy station wagon, and excited to see a word I recognized, I practically shouted, “Stop!” That sign says Stop!”

As an afterthought, I added, “I don’t know what I did before I could read!”

I was puzzled about why my parents began chuckling.

Years later, in Mr. Field’s sixth grade class, he incorporated a program-in-a-box into the curriculum. You picked a card from said box and wrote a story, using the prompt for inspiration. I have no idea how good or bad those early stories were, but it was the journey that mattered, not the end result.

Still later, upon graduating High School, I won our school’s Bessie Webster Writing Award. The award was a charm that lives in my treasure box to this day.

Then I got to Dr. Rothberg’s Modern British Literature class at St. John Fisher. In a rude awakening, I discovered I was not the clever writer I thought I was. However, through two more classes under Dr. Rothberg’s tutelage—Modern American Literature and Creative Writing—some days my words dance. 

Dr. Rothberg, an accomplished writer himself, was a gruff Jewish man who talked about fighting off a gang in the neighborhood in which he grew up in Brooklyn. He called his students “Mr. or Miss,” in deference to the fact that we had to call him “Dr. Rothberg.” During my Senior year, I must have been noticeably distressed about the number of papers I had yet to write for the semester. He asked what was wrong, and I explained that the book for his class was not available in the library or the book store. He loaned me his personal copy.

One of his favorite saying was that when you write the truth, you’ll feel more naked than if you walked down Fifth Avenue in Manhattan without a stitch of clothing.


These days, many writing applications “assist” authors by offering tips via artificial intelligence. It’s a toss-up on whether I accept or reject them. Sometimes, they are helpful in paring down wordiness. Other times, the tips completely miss the nuance of what I am expressing.

I often wonder if AI for writing will be like GPS for driving. Once you rely on GPS, your ability to navigate on your own erodes. I often think about the fact that Artificial intelligence can never replace a Dr. Abraham Rothberg for instilling a love of language.

Originally published in BeyondtheNest.com, Rochester’s FREE Weekly guide to Arts, Culture & Recreation.