When Gene J. Miller sat down to lunch with Mrs. Palm, he hadn’t seen her in more than five decades. At 90, she was exactly as he remembered — sharp-eyed, warm, and still able to surprise him. Midway through the meal, she asked him to hold out his hand. Into it, she dropped a silver Zippo lighter.
It was engraved, a keepsake from her late son Big Rich, who had been one of Miller’s closest childhood friends. She explained that Big Rich had received it from Miller’s own grandfather, who ran a gas station in their New Jersey hometown. “Every Christmas your grandfather gave these engraved Yannarella’s Arco lighters out to a select few customers,” she told him. “You now have it back.”
For Miller, the gesture was more than nostalgia. It was a living reminder of the people and places that shaped his boyhood along the Delaware River — the same world he captures in his award-winning debut, Warning: Short Stories for Middle School Boys Only, Because Girls Have Cooties!
Miller spent 44 years in education, from the English and history classroom to the principal’s office, before teaching at Stockton University. Writing wasn’t part of the plan. It started in 2021 with a gift from his family — a subscription to Storyworth, an online platform that prompts weekly autobiographical stories. In the months that followed, those prompts became sketches of middle school adventures, written with his two oldest grandsons in mind.
By the time he finished, he realised he had more than family keepsakes — he had 15 standalone stories, each infused with humour, friendship, and the occasional misstep of adolescence. Set in the 1960s, they’re portraits of an era when free time meant being outdoors, and childhood wasn’t mediated by screens or smartphones.
“It’s a time capsule,” Miller says. “The way we grew up — riding bikes, exploring the river, sneaking into places we probably shouldn’t have — it’s something a lot of kids today have never experienced.”
The book is full of memorable moments: searching for mythical quicksand by the Delaware River, braving monthly orthodontist appointments, and testing the limits of neighborhood rules under the watchful eye of characters like “Patch-Eye Joe,” the local dump’s self-appointed guardian. Friends like Big Rich Palm and Mark Bruno appear throughout, their personalities as vivid on the page as they were in real life.
Capturing those personalities accurately mattered to Miller. When Mark’s sister read the book, she called him, choking up. “Gene, you brought Mark back to life the way I remember him as my big brother,” she told him. “Those stories were right on. You really made me laugh.”
It’s this mix of humour and authenticity that has resonated with readers of all ages. Adults see themselves in the antics and rites of passage; younger readers are drawn to the fast-paced storytelling and relatable challenges. Each chapter closes with a “Chapter Lessons” section — vocabulary, critical thinking questions, research prompts — designed to spark reflection and discussion.
Those lessons, Miller explains, are rooted in his decades in the classroom. “It’s a great supplemental read for middle level students — perfect for homeschoolers, summer enrichment, or days when the schedule changes and you need something engaging.”
The approach has paid off. Warning: Short Stories for Middle School Boys Only, Because Girls Have Cooties! was named Runner Up in the Young Adult category at the New England Book Festival for Children, and earned an Honorable Mention in the Wildcard category for books that cross genres. It also received a positive review from Kirkus, which called it “a remembrance that’s full of delightful, nostalgic turns.”
The road to publication wasn’t without setbacks. At one point, Miller spent months developing the Chapter Lessons with the hope of submitting to Scholastic Books, only to find the policy had changed to require a literary agent. Undeterred, he turned to South Carolina-based Palmetto Publishing, releasing the book in 2024.
Even then, there were moments of doubt. “My greatest mistake was building confidence as a first-time author,” he says. “The question always remains: are my stories good enough for others to read?” Early reviews eased those fears — a Reedsy Discover write-up called it a “must-read” — but a harsh professional review months later threatened to shake that confidence again. The next review, from Kirkus, was a turning point. “Different strokes for different folks,” Miller says now. “An author must remain even-keeled regardless of the critic’s opinions.”
Miller credits his storytelling style to a lifetime of observation and to the authors he read growing up — Mark Twain, John Steinbeck, Ernest Hemingway, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Franklin Dixon, and J.D. Salinger. From Twain, he borrowed humour; from Steinbeck and Hemingway, a grounded sense of place; from Doyle and Dixon, the intrigue of a well-told mystery; and from Salinger, a touch of eccentricity.
While the book is anchored in his own middle school years, Miller says it’s ultimately about universal experiences: facing bullies, navigating friendships, testing boundaries, and learning responsibility. “Young readers can reflect on what’s changed and what’s stayed the same,” he says. “And adults can step back into a world they remember — or wish they had.”
For Miller, the writing process has also been unexpectedly personal. “There were times in my youth where I was physically abused,” he says. “I never believed it was intended, but it happened. Getting it out on paper helped me to find inner peace.” He sees writing as a form of catharsis — and imagines starting a support network for others who’ve experienced similar pain.
These days, Miller continues to share his stories with audiences in schools, libraries, and community events. He’s also watching with interest as one of his chapters — about an artefact he found along the Delaware River — has inspired the Delanco History Board to launch a fundraising campaign for a sonar search of local waters.
But the moment with Mrs. Palm, and the return of his grandfather’s lighter, still stands out. It’s a perfect emblem of what his stories aim to do — connect the past with the present, and keep it alive for the next generation.
As he puts it: “Those adventures shaped who we were. If we can pass that on, in a way that makes people laugh and think, then it’s worth every word.”