Once our nation honored deeds, of heroes made of steel, not reeds. Moving dirt, and blasting rock, planting corn or raising stock. Scaling peaks, across the sky, risking all, to do or die. That’s how heroes won their fame. Now they simply play a game. Strut the stage with song and dance, or pose as one who took a chance. What once we knew to be a fact, now they come to take it back……
Next month, on October 17, 2017, I will travel to the Wells County Public Library (Bluffton IN), to participate in their Local Author Night (from 6 to 8 pm). Approximately 20 local authors, including little old me, will have booths set up where you can buy books, enjoy activities, crafts, or just chat with the authors. There will be chances to win several books throughout the evening. This event is for all ages, and the authors will be divided into…..
When we pulled into town, it was dark. It was more a village than a town; no street lights, no lights at all except a small storefront. It was lit up like a Christmas tree. Jim parked near the door. “Is this the place?” I asked. “Yep, I come here every month.” He replied stepping out of his Lincoln. To the right of the door, a plate glass window cast a welcoming glow across the sidewalk. A neon open sign…..
Stealing down the stairs, the young boy listened to the rustle of morning dishes. At the bottom, he paused and carefully peered into the living room. In one corner, a floor lamp illuminated an old man deeply absorbed in his morning paper. The boy quietly approached and tugged the man’s freshly starched sleeve. Startled, the man peered over his glasses at the intrusion, the young whippersnapper that dared to disturb his reading. The man had a reputation as strait-laced, yet…..