Heather E. Goodman

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Non-fiction
 
The Philadelphias
Forthcoming in Philadelphia Reflections: Memories of the Keystone State published by The History Press

In 1982, Security Elevator Company moved to Fairmount Avenue, a few blocks from the then abandoned and vandalized Eastern State Penitentiary and across the street from vacant row homes.

Drafting
Second place in national contest sponsored by Thomson Press
When I first met Robert, his most recent memories were of jail. He hurled his tight long braids and tattoos at everyone. And yet, early on, he began to take great risks, making jokes during class, kidding me and some of the students he knew could take it. When we brainstormed for our second paper, he filled the page, a blue ink web, smeared by his arm, so that he wore a new tattoo. Even after the allotted time, he scribbled and scrawled. Once he knew he belonged at Dunwoody, he cut loose, would even jam in his seat a bit as he wrote, move his hips, and jive with his elbows at 8:30 in the morning in the middle of July in a classroom with factory windows.
Eleven Great Guide Tips
Published on Flyfish.com in September 2006
Never put the rod together before getting on the water. Not only does this keep you from worrying about breaking your rod tip, but additionally you have a greater chance of seeing flora and fauna and perhaps a glimpse of wildlife. The best advantage though is that it forces you to pay attention to whatever bugs may be rising. I've often watched my father catch an insect in his hand, examine it, and then compare it to the flies in his box.
Guide: Pete Goodman (Dad) fishing in Pennsylvania for trout
 
Nostalgia
Published in Whistling Shade in 2005
In the light of our last day my brother and I are once again engaged in the old fight of who caught the bigger fish. For once I hold the trophy, and we are splashing in the glacial water, shoving our fish further out in front of us so they appear larger in pictures that Dad is taking, while Mom laughs with tears on her cheeks. Instantly I recognize this moment: we are again eight and ten, thrilled by fish slime and skipping rocks; reveling in the doting eyes of our parents, the sunburn on the back of our necks, the laughter spilling over streams, and the swimming with trout.