In 1966, when I was in third grade, Dad, Randy, and I were hard at work fixing up the chicken coop and converting it into a workshop and two-car garage. We started early in the morning and worked all day. One day, we were ripping up the floor and knocking out some walls. Dust from old chicken poop filled the air and made us cough. Around lunchtime, Mom walked over to us with a tray of sandwiches and a pitcher of lemonade. She wore shorts and a pink blouse. Her red lipstick accented her smile. “Are my men ready for lunch?” she asked.
Gosh, Scott. Your words have come from a very real place in your heart to describe a terrifically difficult situation for you, your mum and your family. Goosepimpling stuff. I want to say 'I'm really sorry', but also 'wow, well done'. I might have said this before but I can't wait for the book.
Clear, poignant images of your isolated mom. If only she'd had a car , a friend, a creative outlet, the depression might have been averted. To you, a child, there was lunch, and then there was no lunch. Children know when something is wrong, and feel so helpless. This is going to be a fine story, Scott.
Gosh, Scott. Your words have come from a very real place in your heart to describe a terrifically difficult situation for you, your mum and your family. Goosepimpling stuff. I want to say 'I'm really sorry', but also 'wow, well done'. I might have said this before but I can't wait for the book.
Thanks Rebecca. I am hoping to get it published next month.
Clear, poignant images of your isolated mom. If only she'd had a car , a friend, a creative outlet, the depression might have been averted. To you, a child, there was lunch, and then there was no lunch. Children know when something is wrong, and feel so helpless. This is going to be a fine story, Scott.
Thanks so much for your kind words.
This is a wonderful story. My father was in Korea during the war, too.