Of course I can’t remember when I was just an idea in the creative brain of my author. I’m fairly certain that I am far from the first book thought that was had, but I’m grateful for the creation and pursuit.
In fact, my first memory was when I was about fifty five pages old and my protagonist had just been taken into custody by the police.
I had to keep reminding myself that I was FICTION and not to worry because there were probably hundreds more pages to go to straighten everything out.
But I DO have story friends that didn’t have hundreds of pages and wound up bound along with others of their kind into a book of many short stories. But I digress.
I’m going to let you in on a secret here, I really wasn’t fond of my main character during those early pages but I’m just the book and have no control over the story that I am forced to tell.
I must also interject here. There are good authors and some not so good authors and we books can’t choose our creators but I am fortunate because I was lucky to have been given a good one.
When I was about ninety seven pages long it seemed like ages before I turned the page onto ninety eight. But I found out later that it is not uncommon to go through that as a young book and I went through those sort of stages many times until I was finished.
As I added pages I also added many literary characters and plots and subplots and I actually got quite confused myself as to who I actually was and where I was headed.

Just between us, I had a bit of wavering faith in my author many times but always was happy that at least I was not one of those SciFi books. They never seemed quite right to me even though there are a few near me on this bookshelf so I shouldn’t make too much of it here.
Things were going along smoothly until page two hundred and
Seven, Chapter ten.
My hero, main character, protagonist… died! My author
“Killed Him Off!” I was not ready for that, I must tell you.
Of course, I found out why my author did that and it made sense to me by the end.
And by the way “The End” is just the beginning for a book. I mean it is actually when you graduate and go out into the world to entertain the readers that will hold you and caress you and yes, also sometimes dog ear you or spill coffee on your pages or worst of all, make notes in your margins!

Which brings me to the modern challenge of E Books. Well, I don’t mean to sound aloof but does anyone really think that holding an electronic device is really preferable to a hardbound book with its tactile luxury and even library aroma?
The jury is still out on that I guess and I am a bit one sided on that thinking.
But the reason I asked you to listen to my story today, other than making my case for traditional printed and bound books is that I am so proud.
I am announcing today that have a new just born, ah first printing I should say…SEQUEL!
I’m saving a place on my bookshelf for it right next to me.
So in the meantime, keep reading and going to bookstores and library’s and enjoy real books and stories just like mine!

At the very end of the sentence, in fact, at the very end of the paragraph in the book “Dot”, as she was known to all of the other punctuation marks, was quietly sobbing.
The Question Mark slid over next to her and asked “What’s wrong Dot?” (He was ALWAYS asking questions!)
“I’m so…so…insignificant…unimportant…almost non-existent…period!”
Exclamation Point had overheard Dot and Question Mark’s discussion and came over to exclaim his feelings about Dot’s importance.
“Why that’s just not true Dot….you’re…well…your the MOST important of ALL of us!”
Then it seemed that the whole punctuation bunch rushed down to where all the commotion was around little Dot.
Quotation Mark seemed to be the spokesman for the group and said “Dry up those tears, Dot, you are so super-important: might I add; (and exceedingly vital) that none of us would know where to stop…I mean…do you understand?”
Then Quotation Mark asked “Did I get everyone in on that sentence?”
Dot said “You are all so kind. I’m feeling much better now …thank you…ALL!”
Then bracket ran up and skidded into Question Mark “{ ah }Am I too late?”
“Perhaps next time bracket…it’s OK pal!” Question Mark put his curved arm around bracket.
As they all went back to their proper places, Quotation Mark said quietly to himself “I hope NO one, especially Dot, noticed that I failed to use a period in that sentence!”

I’m so glad you have a Grandpa
‘Cause they are so much fun
Just think of all the stuff you’d miss
If you never did have one

Without a Grandpa almost never saying no
There’d be no one to teach you
To “take take your time…be slow”
Just think that all those Grandpas
Once had Grandpas too

That gave them too much candy
And took them to the zoo
They all had laps and stories Grandchildren listened to
And just be there and love you… was all they had to do
Make sure to love your Grandpa and tell him and you’ll see
It will make him happy I know ’cause he is ME!

Eric Smith was smiling after his favorite teacher complimented him on his creative writing. She suggested that if he wanted to become an excellent writer, he should try to “…write every single day. Write up a storm Eric!”
Well, to Eric’s creative mind, this also meant writing a story about a storm!
As our boy was sitting at his home keyboard he started out by writing…”The sun disappeared behind a great grey cloud and within a matter of seconds, lightning began lighting up the afternoon sky above the boy’s home.”
Eric stopped typing because he heard rumbling sounds not only coming from outside but rattling the window panes.
As Eric looked outside, the sun had disappeared behind a great grey cloud and it was beginning to rain.
“NAW!” Eric thought. But then…what if…? He typed…”Suddenly the sun burst through the huge cloud and the rain stopped, the lightning stopped and of course, the thunder ceased.”
When he looked back outside the sun WAS back and the rainstorm was GONE!
“Hmmmm.” He, just like you would do, tried it again and the same result happened.
So, of course, Eric wrote of a sunny day of 72 degrees and as soon as he typed the last period he went outside to play!
When Eric woke up the next morning, it was raining and he hadn’t written “up a storm” as he did the day before.
So, the magic of “storm writing” only lasted one afternoon but it was huge fun and helped Eric Smith decide exactly what he wanted to be when he grew up…a meteorologist!

The lightning cast weird shadows on the rain streaked window in Cathy’s bedroom. She was alone until her parents would return from their community meeting in town, but after all, she was twelve years old and very mature. Cathy had been alone for short periods of time before, but the storm with all of it’s sounds of thunder made things seem, well, a bit more loud and wet and just a bit more scary! “I sure would like to have a nice cup of Mom’s hot chocolate…ummm, and maybe with some whipped cream or marshmallows!” thought Cathy. Suddenly, there was a great BOOM!! outside near the house…and then Cathy heard the creaking and cracking sound of a large tree limb. Running to her window, Cathy looked out through the rain just in time to see a great limb fall to the ground and split in two near the back fence. The lightning crashed even more loudly now and the rain was splashing at her windows as if it were trying to get into Cathy’s bedroom and drench her! Then Cathy heard a loud BAM! and all the lights went out and her clock radio started blinking “12:00” Cathy tried to switch on her lights and turn on her radio but the electricity was completely out! Cathy was trying to stay very brave and calm but the more she thought, the more she started to become just a little bit scared! Ally, the family cat was under the bed and wouldn’t come out even though Cathy called and called to her. Actually Cathy wanted to hold Ally and hug her instead of just being alone, watching and listening to the fierce storm. Cathy jumped as the phone rang and she stared at it for a couple of more rings before she picked it up and pressed “talk”. “H-Hello?” she whispered. “Cathy…Dear…it’s Mommy, are you all right?” “Oh…Hi Mom…s-sure everything’s fine

Did you know there is a breed

Of cats that have no tails?

It took a lot of research

Seeing why this trait prevails

It happened many years ago

On porches by the sea

Upon an Island known as Man

It was said to be

The people there were restful

Loved to watch the scenery

But the people were out numbered

Friendly felines seemed to be…

Always near the old folks

Taking in the view

The cats would laze along porch floors

As cats are prone to do

But it started causing problems

There was screeching everywhere

So the felines cut their tails off

To avoid those rocking chairs!

“I don’t know why I sit here, hour after hour on this uncomfortable bank…wetting my line. That’s really all I’m doing! I just might be the worst fisherman EVER! It IS relaxing, actually it’s boring if truth be told. And with the cost of the rod and reel, the bait, these waders that I never use, and the vest. I DO love the vest though with all the pockets and little loops for the flys, the khaki “Ernest Hemmingway” look of it. He was a FISHERMAN…” THE OLD MAN AND THE SEA”, but he was more of a BILL fisherman. He’d never sit on a muddy bank like this for hours on end and then make a stop by the fish market on the way home to salvage at least SOME of his masculine dignity…no he’d NEVER do that.”

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

“This hook is KILLIN’ me! It really hurts and it’s very restrictive too. I just KNOW I’m gonna drown! I just know it! But does HE care? NO, I DON’T THINK SO!…he just sits there all relaxed, NOT in pain…NOT drowning…and these pesky fish scare me, bumping into me with their lips, I guess they are lips. I don’t think I can take much more of this. If the idiot had just…kinda…cut me in two at least half of me could go on my merry way…BUT NO!!! He wants me to wriggle …well I’ve got news for him…I AIN’T wrigglin’. If I, perish the thought, play “dead” these stupid fish won’t even notice me and jerkface there might reel me back in and replace me with cousin Harvey… HATE that worm…and throw me away on that beautiful muddy bank. Well, that’s my plan and I’m stickin’ to it!!!”

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

“Look at that dufus up there on the bank. What does he think…we’re STUPID or somethin’? I mean, even a smelt wouldn’t fall for that old “worm on the hook” trick. He didn’t even put the bait on properly…look you can clearly see the point stickin’ through that ugly unappealing earthworm. I mean, it practically takes your appetite away! Excuse me a second there’s a Mayfly on the surface…”GULP!”…got ‘em! Love it! Well anyhow, I think it’s an affront to all of us fish the way some of these “sport” fishermen show such utter disrespect for our intelligence don’t you Charlie…ah…Charlie? Where are you…OH NO!…Charlie…how could you???”

“Hi! The keys on my keyboard are helping me give a shout out to you today. Normally, I’m not a very popular key because you see I’m the DELETE button.”
“Oh, I do have a few close friends like the space bar (who never says much, but is a great listener) and the backspace arrow, who kinda does the same job as me, so we have something in common.”
“The most popular keys like E and ENTER never want to chat. I’ve never shared a single word with CTRL…EVER.”
“I can’t actually figure out why I’m so unpopular with almost all of the other keys, after all I give them another chance to be used over again later. But I’m content with my role on the keyboard, and actually I believe that I’m one of the most popular keys. Why do I think that you ask? Because my writer Russ makes so many mistakes, he actually uses me more than any other key.”
“I was going to chat longer but I’m an expert about knowing when to delete.”

Billy’s grandfather liked to tell Billy about “The Good Old Days” when life was simple, less expensive and lots more fun.
It was hard for Billy to really understand everything that his “Papa” told him and sometimes Billy wondered if indeed all of Papa’s stories were really how things were.
After all, Billy and his Mom and Dad lived in the same small town where Papa grew up fifty years ago and Billy knew that some of the same buildings were still there because they had dates carved into some of their cornerstones.
Sometimes Papa would show Billy old yellowed black and white pictures of their town and a few of them featured items and places that Billy recognized.
One afternoon near the end of summer vacation Billy was walking down South Street just off Main when he walked by a store front that was always empty with an old “For Rent” sign in the corner of the window. But today the windows were not dingy and dusty but were clean and shiny and in fact the front wooden and glass door was wide open.
Billy looked inside and there was a marble counter with round stools and a large glass case with lots of jars and colorful boxes lined up side by side.
“C’mon in…Billy…isn’t it?”
“Ah….yes….Sir….but…?”
“Billy Jones…ah yes…Edward’s grandson….you’re a fine looking lad!”
Billy was still standing in the doorway, leaning and peering into the store and wondering about the gray haired man with the wire rim glasses that seemed to know exactly who Billy was. The man had on a cream colored apron and was holding a damp rag in his hand.
“Just cleaning up the fountain a bit…could I make you a Lemon Phosphate or an Ammonia Coke. No…you wouldn’t know about those would you….how about a hot fudge Sundae with wet nuts and whipped cream and of course a Maraschino cherry on top?”
“Ah…..” was all that Billy could manage.
“We’ve got a great assortment of penny candy too Billy. Mary Janes and Squirrel Nuts and Kits and wax lips….and well….if you don’t have the money today you can pay me next time you’re in the store. By the way how is your Papa Edward?”
“Ah…he’s fine….ah….Sir…..he……”
“So what’ll it be Billy? Here sit down at the fountain and I’ll whip you up something special…say a banana split!”
“Ah….” Billy was saying “Ah” a lot and figured he’d better find out what was really going on.
“Did you just open up here….Mister…..?”
“Henry Jenkins…. but you can just call me Jenks….everyone does. Heck I opened this place in the early fifties when your Papa was in grade school. Yep been here a long time!”
“But I’ve never….I mean I walk by here lots and I never saw..”
Billy was very bewildered.
Jenks was just squirting the last puff of whipped cream onto the banana split and slid it across the white marble counter toward Billy.
“Here…you’ll need this too!” Jenks handed Billy a long spoon and two paper napkins. As Billy tasted the boat shaped dessert Jenks rattled and snapped a small brown paper bag and leaned into the penny candy case and plucked out about a dozen assorted candies and dropped them into the bag.
It didn’t take Billy long to finish the Banana Split and scoop the last melted ice cream out of the bottom of the stainless steel dish.
“That was good….Jenks!”
“You betcha….best in town!”
Jenks folded the top of the bag together and handed it to Billy. Pay me next time you come by and don’t forget to remember me to your Papa!”
Billy said…”Thank you Jenks…I’ll see you soon.”
“Take care now son!”
As Billy crossed over the threshold of the store he turned to wave so long to his new friend Jenks. But the door was closed and the widows dingy and dirty with a “For Rent” sign in the corner of the window.
“What?” said Billy out loud and a woman who was passing by turned and stared at Billy and then hurried along and glanced back at him as she went.
Billy went to scratch his head when he realized that he still had a small brown paper bag in his hand…full of penny candy!

“See that painting…there on the wall behind the English chest of drawers?” asked Ellen’s grandpa.
“Sure Papa…it’s…ah….nice …I guess.” Ellie, as grandpa usually called her, was more interested in the cuckoo clock that was about to strike “Three”.
Ellie’s grandpa smiled at his six year old (and only) granddaughter and left her alone as she stood in anticipation of the hourly event.
By the time grandpa made it back to his easy chair in his den, the cuckoo clock had marked the hour and Ellie was about to return to the children’s television show that she had been watching earlier when she heard the unmistakable “Toot” of a train whistle.
Ellie liked trains and knew that there were no train tracks near grandpa’s house and was puzzled by the sound. Then there was the sound of a “whoosh” that seemed to be coming from the painting that was her grandpa’s favorite, and as Ellie looked up at the picture, steam was pouring out beyond the frame!
Ellie’s wide open non-blinking eyes were fixed on the painting “Cove Halt”. All of the people and animals and yes, the train, seemed to be very slowly moving. There was a small child with its back turned to the viewer, standing in the lower left foreground of the painting. Ellie couldn’t tell by the way it was dressed if it was a boy or a girl.
“It must be a girl…look at that big hat…” Ellie thought. Then suddenly a bright flash as bright as anything she’d ever seen made her close her eyes to the extreme brightness of it.
When she opened her eyes she wasn’t standing in grandpa’s living room anymore. She was standing on a dirt and cinder road holding the reins of a very large draught horse and wearing a large straw hat with a wide black bow!
Looking up to the right she could see, hear and even smell the smoke from the old steam train. And there was another little girl being helped into an old car by a man and a woman…just…like…in grandpa’s painting.
She turned around and looked back but there was absolutely nothing behind her and just then the huge horse pulled his head to the left and jerked the reins completely out of her hands.
“Hey now..Ellie…hold him tight!” and a large man dressed in work clothes patted the horse and replaced the reins into Ellie’s hand.
“Let’s tie him up and go into the pub and get you a ginger beer. What do ya say to that eh?”
The man seemed to know her and when he turned to fully face her and give her the reins to the massive horse he looked just like her grandpa.
The train whistled and clanged and chugged off as they tied up the horse and made their way inside of the pub with the thatched roof.
Throughout the entire episode Ellie had not uttered a word but then asked the man who looked so much like her grandpa “Where are we?”
“Why… the Horseshoe Pub Ellie you’ve been here dozens of times before. You know I have to meet the train on the weekend in case there’s any freight to be hauled when you come to stay with me.”
Then he said to the pub owner “We’ll have the usual Sam.”
“Hi Ellie…how’s Clyde behavin’?”
Ellie had no idea who Clyde was, then remembered seeing “CLYDE” engraved on an old worn brass plate on the horse’s harness. “Ah…oh he tries to pull the reins away some but I can hold him!”
“Good girl!” smiled the owner, Mr. Sampson.
Ellie drank her ginger beer and smiled at the few other patrons in the pub and thought to herself “This is the first time that I had a dream and actually knew that it WAS a dream!”
After her second ginger beer the man who looked like her grandpa said…”Well…gotta get back now Sam, we’ll be seein’ you Saturday next if the good Lord’s willin’ eh!”
“Right you are Ned…and Ellie…you show that Clyde who’s Boss eh?”
“Ah…yes Mr. Sampson I will. Then Ellie took “Ned’s” hand and they left the pub and went outside to Clyde. The sun was shining brightly and as Ellie looked up into the sky another bright blast of whiteness made her squint and when she opened her eyes she found that she was back in grandpa’s living room looking at the painting.
Just then she felt her grandpa’s arm around her shoulders and she heard him say…
“That’s my favorite painting in the whole world Ellie!”
She looked up at her grandpa and said… “Mine too!”