Dr. Philip Huang, Austin/Travis County Health and Human Services Department medical director and health authority, in reference to a county critical health indicators report released April 30

PISD Police Chief William Edwards in a written statement, after a Pflugerville High School student was arrested on suspicion of making a threat concerning the school last month

I’m a fraud. I have been posing as a writer for 20 years and somehow, so far, nobody has caught onto the fact that I simply fake my so called writing talent—that is until the waning months of my last job.

When applying for work I’m often asked the question, “What’s your greatest strength?” I always reply “My writing. If you ask about me, anyone who knows me will invariably say, ‘He’s a good writer; wears a lot of black.’”

Yet, what these well-meaning souls don’t know is the deceit in my heart. Even as I attempt to fool everyone that I am a talented writer with no equal, in the evening, at my bar, under the initial influence of beer and whiskey the voices whisper what I know deep in my heart and try desperately to ignore.

This brings me to major, recent event in my life. I’m now gainfully employed. It all began in July 2011 when I announced to the company that employed me at the time that I was leaving to promote my book in an attempt to seduce a publisher. In the meantime I planned to restart my formerly lucrative freelance business.

Now this announcement was true in the sense that I was, in fact, planning to do exactly that, but I intentionally deceived my colleagues by suggesting that I had a say in the matter of my departure. What follows is a more accurate telling of the tale.

I remember following my manager, Karoline, into one of the team rooms for our weekly one-on-one. Our new VP of marketing, Bob, was sitting on the other side of the room. Karoline offered, “Bob is joining us.” “Hi Bob.” I quipped. Our HR manager then slipped in behind me, with pen and paper. I sat down and Karoline continued, “Cindy will also be joining us.”

Karoline sat silently, avoiding eye contact with me as Bob talked at length regarding the need for a change, without coming to the point. I smiled knowingly and said, “What kind of change did you have in mind, Bob?” Bob replied, “Here’s what we can do for you: two weeks notice, two weeks severance, and you can announce your own departure.”

I continued: “Last Friday you pulled me aside and thanked me for graciously accepting the new role for me when you hired someone to replace me as the team writer. You said I was the only one that could handle this new position, assistant campaign manager. What’s changed?”

Raising his voice he shot back, “I meant that you were the only one who could do that job assuming that you could actually do that job.” Karoline and I simply stared at Bob in silence while he took a breath and regained his composure. Softening slightly, he continued, “You’re not that guy. You’ve never been that guy, and you’ll never be that guy. You’re a writer; that’s what you should be doing.”

The truth, however, is Bob hated my writing and had been complaining about it to Karoline since he arrived. C’est la guerre.

Dutifully, I broadcast my departure by e-mail, wishing everyone well and explaining my plans, and colleagues returned my well-wishes. And all I could think was, “If only they knew the failure that I was, the fraud I had perpetuated for the last two decades, and the depth of my deceit.”

Then, for 252 days I diligently worked on my blog, applied for work, networked, sought out partnerships and clients—all to no avail.

And with each passing day, the voices of doubt grew louder, the self-loathing more intense, and the whiskey more frequent. Until I finally came to be comfortable with the fact that I would never work again. It was, ironically, another Tuesday morning when I embraced this epiphany over morning coffee with my housemates.

I didn’t write that day, and I didn’t apply for work. I simply sat down and began watching Netflix non-stop. Every 30 minutes or so I would find a reason to pause what I was watching and shuffle out of my office with the emotional acquiescence of my new-found career: professional time killer. And then, as if by divine appointment, a miracle occurred. I decided to check my e-mail.

In my inbox, was a message inviting me to interview for a position as a technical writer. The company, Topaz Technologies, is located right here in Pflugerville, Texas, four miles from my home, they’ve been in business for 30 years, and are privately held. It was the perfect assignment.

As you’ve probably surmised I got the job but as I arrived my first day, I thought of Bob and how he discovered the dark secret I had tried so desperately to hide. I wondered almost aloud “How long before they find out this time?”

Let the games begin.

Guy Oliver is a Pflugerville freelance writer, author, blogger and opinion humorist who wants to hear from you. Follow him on twitter and on his blog at twitter.com/#!/guyospeaks and guyospeaks.com

Mother’s Day is Sunday, but common sense tells us mothers were celebrated long before Americans came to mark it annually on the second Sunday in May.

Our American Mother’s Day tradition has English roots, traced back to what the Brits call “Mothering Sunday.”

But the basic idea for this special day predates even that, going back to the ancient Greeks and Romans.

Reverence for one’s mother is a timeless and universal trait – though one doesn’t have to be an historian or scholar to instinctively know that. Just like a mother’s love, it is in our hearts.

So, in modern times, Mother’s Day celebrations (although not always on the same date everywhere) literally run the gamut from A to Z. Mother’s Day is celebrated everywhere from Australia to Zimbabwe.

In our country, President Woodrow Wilson officially established Mother’s Day in 1914.

Other sources – as varied as the Bible and the late humorist Erma Bombeck – give us much to consider.

In the Ten Commandments, we are instructed to honor our mothers and fathers.

Bombeck, meanwhile, once imagined a conversation between the Lord and an angel, when mothers were created.

“I’m so close to creating something so close to myself,” Bombeck has God saying. “Already, I have one who heals herself when she is sick, can feed a family of four on one pound of hamburger and can get a 9-year-old to stand under a shower.”

Perhaps the hand that rocks the cradle does not literally rule the world, but there is no way of overestimating the influence mothers have. There is no way of overstating their importance.

They come to us biologically, or by way of adoption, and sometimes they are a grandmother or an aunt.

They instruct us in the right way to grow, sharing our pride and our pain, our joy and sadness.

These are the women who cleaned our faces with Kleenexes and spit.

These are the women who cried at our weddings.

Their kisses – as if from the lips of the Almighty – can mend broken limbs and aching hearts.

Our mothers are always with us, in flesh or in memory.

Bombeck had it right. When God made mothers, he did indeed create something very close to himself.

- Brad Stutzman, Austin Community Newspapers

Tana Ruckel, Delco Primary School principal, in a May 4 Pflugerville ISD electronic newsletter

Andres Alcantar of Pflugerville, recently appointed chair of the Texas Workforce Commission by Gov. Rick Perry

Pflugerville ISD board member Vernagene Mott, also a member of the Heritage House Partners, who created and maintain Pflugerville’s Heritage House Museum, which celebrated its 10^th anniversary on Sunday

- Tiffany Commerford, recently appointed principal of Park Crest Middle School after serving as acting principal there, in an April 27 Pflugerville ISD electronic newsletter

- Precinct 1 Travis County Commissioner Ron Davis, who is running for re-election

- Pflugerville Mayor Jeff Coleman, after council members on April 10 unanimously approved an agreement with SouthWest Water Company to work together toward providing water for the Windermere Utility service area