Tag Archives: Social issues
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……
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…..
Brilliant wildflowers carpeted the fields, interrupted by scattered woods ablaze with dogwood and redbud. The aroma of tilled soil wafted through the window. It was spring on the Illinois Prairie, and April 9, 1927, was a lovely day. Somewhere between Joliet and LaPorte, an old Model T puttered eastward – well it wasn’t that old, they’d only been made since ’08. In the car, two young schoolteachers returned from Joliet. Ethel snuggled closer to Harold; he smiled and patted her…..
“So you wrote a children’s book?” the voice on the phone asked. She was pleasant, but my insecure ears picked up a note of condescension. “Yes, I wrote it for my granddaughter when she was learning to read.” “I see,” the voice paused. “So it’s a picture book?” “No, not a picture book,” I answered trying to think how best to describe it. “Not a picture book, so is the target audience MG or YA?” What? I thought. After retiring…..
“So you wrote a children’s book?” the voice on the phone asked. She was pleasant, but my insecure ears picked up a note of condescension. “Yes, I wrote it for my granddaughter when she was learning to read.” “I see,” the voice paused. “So it’s a picture book?” “No, not a picture book,” I answered trying to think how best to describe it. “Not a picture book, so is the target audience MG or YA?” What? I thought. After retiring…..