Incredible Journeys...

Recently, I traveled with my children to a place I have visited often since my childhood - Velma, Oklahoma. That's where my grandparents lived. Anyone familiar with the State knows that much of Oklahoma remains rural. Velma is one of those tiny rural towns tucked along Highway 7. If you are traveling west on Highway 7 towards Lawton, don't blink or you just might miss it! Three generations of Cartwrights have stomped the ground there...several more are sure to follow.

For as long as I can remember, we have driven the same route to Velma. From Austin, we travel north up the IH-35 corridor to Ardmore. Then, we head west to Ringling. In Ringling, we head north for about ten miles to Pinto and turn left on County Road 53 to Loco. On the outskirts of Loco (again, don't blink because you'll miss it) is a four-way stop. There we turn right onto a narrow, poorly paved road. As many times as I have traveled this road, I still cannot tell you the name of it. I have always called it "the road to Loco." [I know what you are thinking - Loco is an odd name for a town. It got its name from what was then known as the "loco weed" that grew wild there. ] Anyway, we take the Loco Road until it dead ends into another road I have dubbed The Road to Granny Bea's House and we turn left. In less than a mile, the pavement turns to gravel and dirt. And just before you choke on all the dust flying around, on the left is a little yellow house with green trim - Granny Bea's house.

I spent many a summer at the little yellow house that sits in the middle of nowhere. Even though there wasn't anything to do (in terms of the things that kids do today), there never seemed to be a lack of things to do. My brothers and sisters and I would romp all over the countryside with our cousins. We ate watermelon on the porch seeing who could spit seeds the furthest. We would eat hand-cranked ice cream and wave at the few passersby on the dirt road. We would run through the dirt devils that would spin up the driveway. At night, we would sit around in the back yard telling scary stories while the coyotes howled in the acreage behind the house - or playing Ghost on the Raft. When it was time for bed, Granny would make us wash the red dirt off of our feet and douse off in the shower. Then we'd pile as many as four to a bed where we would go to sleep thinking about the fun we would have the next day. Each day seemed to be measured by having more fun than the day before. I cannot recall a time that I was ever bored.

Something was always cooking on the stove. We would wake up to the smell of bacon and fried potatos, biscuits and chocolate gravy. [Yes. Chocolate gravy - a chocolate sauce poured over hot, buttered biscuits. Don't knock it until you've tried it.] Chocolate gravy is some of the best stuff I have ever eaten. About the only thing that rivaled her chocolate gravy was her chicken and dumplings. Moist, juicy check swimming in a sauce that was not too creamy and not too thin. The dumplings never fell apart. They were fluffy but dense - little pillows of boiled dough that melded the flavors of the chicken and the broth. Perfection! Granny tried to teach me to make them once; but, to this day I have never been able to get my dumplings to come out like hers.

Today, in a time of X-Box and Playstations, iPods and cable, McDonalds and Burger King, netbooks and laptops, the little yellow house in the middle of no particular place still holds the same excitement for my children. They are always happy to visit. For a few days, the gadgets are traded for hide and seek, catching frogs, climbing on hay bales and chunking rocks. They play all day with their cousins. They romp around the countryside hooting and hollering to their hearts content. They sit in a circle and tell ghost stories and watch for shooting stars at night. And when it's time to go to bed, they wash the red dirt off of their feet and douse off in the shower; then pile as many as four at a time into a bed knowing they'll have just as much fun the next morning when they wake up.

Each time I stir up the dust driving down that little dirt road, something stirs inside my heart. Going to Granny Bea's house was always an incredible journey. Although she left us a few years ago and is gone from our midst, her presence still resides in the small community where she lived. There is the beauty shop where she had her hair fixed. Martin's Grocery Store. Or, the dance floor at picnic grounds where she would dance a jig or two. She loved to dance. And when her body would not allow her to dance any longer; she would sit at the picnic grounds in her lawn chair tapping her toe to the music and watching everyone else.

I have been many places - traveled by train, bus, airplane or automobile. I have seen the ocean, the mountains, the birthplace of America. But the most incredible journey for me is going back to Granny Bea's. Each time I go there, the car may be going forward, but I am traveling backwards through time to a place where children still run barefoot and play in the dirt. The sun kisses little freckled faces... and a grandmother's hug solves all the problems of the world.

Favorite Teachers...

Clara B. Walker. My third-grade teacher. I remember her distinctly - a robust, African-American woman with a jolly laugh who loved children and her job. She suffered with us through our struggles and celebrated our triumphs - not only with our curriculum - but in our lives. I recall her stopping by my home for a visit because she "happened to be in the neighborhood." She made it a point to visit all of her students. Becoming acquainted with our home lives and situations helped her to understand her students. She was my favorite teacher and her fingerprints have left their indelible mark in shaping the person that I am today.

I thought of Mrs. Walker recently during my visit to West Virginia where I met the fine teachers of Greenbank, Hillsboro and Marlinton at the 2009 Summer Reading Academy. I had been invited to perform a special reading of The Angry Thunderstorm and to introduce the curriculum for the book with the Reading Instruction Co. I was very honored to have been asked to present the book to such an extraordinary group.

I am not an educator. In fact, I am probably the worst candidate there could possibly be for this role. I love children and love entertaining them. However, teaching requires great patience and the ability to articulate and adapt for different learning types. Listening to the conversations during the professional development sessions, it was clear that, while I have always remembered Mrs. Walker fondly, I never appreciated her (as well as the other teachers who taught me) as much as I should have.


What struck me and took me back to my third-grade teacher was the level of passion these teachers have for their communites, their schools and their students. Their conversations ranged from shared struggles to sure-fired strategies that were working in the classroom - a collaborative group effort where nobody had the corner on the smarts. Instead, the only focus was becoming better advocates and teachers and developing strong readers. I was touched by both their experiences and their dedication to their profession - a profession that is built on a solid purpose beyond making money.




Thank you, Pocahontas County, for having me at your Summer Reading Academy. I am grateful for having had the pleasure and for the trip down memory lane. I am going to try and locate Mrs. Walker and see if she is up for a visit. I would love to personally tell her thank you.

Book Review: Follow The River by James Alexander Thom

Last week, I traveled to Pocahontas County, West Virginia, nature's mountain playground situated between the Appalachian and Allegheny Mountains. I accompanied my friend, Ann B. Fiala, Founder of Reading Instruction Co., to do a special reading for the teachers of several school districts within the county and to introduce the curriculum that Ann has created for The Angry Thunderstorm [much more about this exciting event in my next posting].

Before we boarded our flight as we were departing Austin, Ann gave me a copy of the book, Follow The River by James Alexander Thom. She told me that I might find the story interesting because the setting of the story takes place in the area we would be visiting. Now, anytime Ann B. Fiala gives me a book, I can always count on it being an excellent read and I gladly accept it. So...I began my journey reading about another woman's remarkable journey.

Follow The River is based on the true story of Mary Draper Ingles, a young pioneer woman captured by the Shawnee Indians during the French and Indian War in 1755. Late into pregnancy and due to give birth any day, Mary was led away along with her two young sons, her sister-in-law and another gentleman from her settlement. At the time, they were the only known survivors to follow the bloody massacre of family members and friends in the Draper's Meadow settlement. During her captivity, Mary would be taken some six hundred miles from her home across uncharted territory that had yet to be traveled by the white man. Three days into this journey, she gave birth to a little girl.

From the onset of her captivity, the young woman knew that if she were to survive, she would have to keep her emotions low and her wit strong. Dignity became her tool for survival. Memory and instinct became her determination. The dream of a return to Draper's Meadow [and to her husband whom she assumed to be alive] became her purpose.

The hardships she faced along the trail were equaled to the hardships she faced upon arriving at the Indian camp. She witnessed her fellow captors run the gauntlet. She was made to watch as some of the captives were burned at the stake. Her days were spent working endlessly for the two French traders, sewing shirts for trade with the Indians. Her sons were taken from her. She was sold to the two French traders and forced to work in the salt camp. The ultimate sacrifice came when she made the decision to leave her baby in order to make her escape and arduous journey home.

Follow The River leaves nothing to the imagination in this incredible account. The terrain. The scenery. The weather. The wildlife. [I read that the author actually walked the route of Mary Draper Ingles return so that he could provide the most accurate account possible.] As a visitor to this beautiful, inspiring, yet still somewhat wild part of the country, I was able to connect with the tribulations of this remarkable woman. While we often hear about resourceful men who settled our great nation, it was a welcome change to read a story about a woman who managed to do something that no man of her time would ever dare to do.

In Terms of Chocolate...

Check out Beth's Book Review Blog.

Beth has a unique way of rating the books that she reads. She rates them in terms of chocolate.

The Angry Thunderstorm received the Ghirardelli rating. As a chocolate lover, I couldn't be more pleased.

Thank you, Beth, for the wonderful review!

Reading More Into The Story...

Last week, I posted a link to Julia Lawrinson's Writing In The Margins blog titled Why I Write For Children. Julia perfectly articulated why most childrens' authors are passionate about writing for children - you have a direct relationship with readers who care passiontaely about what they read. Children have a relationship with books that is lost to most adult readers which makes writing for them so intense and wonderful.

As a new author, I couldn't agree more with Julia Lawrinson. I LOVE writing the story and have considered it the greatest joy - until today. Today I learned that reading the story to a group of children is, by far, the most rewarding part of the author experience.

This morning, I visited Tutor Time, an early childhood development center where my good friend, Faith, goes to school. (You may recall Faith from an earlier post.) I had the privilege of reading The Angry Thunderstorm to two different age groups - both were delightful.

Before we read the book, we talked about thunderstorms. I asked, Who is afraid of thunderstorms? Little hands went up all over the room. And why are you afraid of thunderstorms? Little faces and voices became animated, "The lightning scares me..." "The thunder is loud..." "I don't like the thunder or the lightning." Then I asked, Why do you think the thunderstorm makes lightning? Why do you think the thunderstorm makes thunder? Why do you think he brings rain? Why do you think the thunderstorm's winds blow so strong? When we began traveling down this new path of thinking, the focus went from what happens during a storm to why it happens. That is the point when we began reading the book.

When children read a story, their world become magical. They are transported into another realm and it is as if their little minds are soaking up every detail of this new place. In this world, the Thunderstorm is alive and he speaks directly to them telling them the big, important job he has to do; and why it takes such powerful strength to get it done. In this world, they are the child at the window experiencing the Thunderstorm's bad attempt at a first impression. When a child reads, they experience.

Today's reading was the most exhilerating and humbling lesson. I may have written the story. I may have read the story. But it is the Thunderstorm that held their hand and took them on the intense and wonderful journey from uncertainty to understanding.

Smoosh People! A Sophie-isticated Idea from a Sophie-isticated Entrepreneur...

Today, I would like to introduce you to a sophisticated young reader and entrepreneur named, Sophie. Sophie's mother and I have worked at the same agency for several years. In fact, I have known Sophie since she was a baby. I have always enjoyed hearing Sophie's mother share stories about her latest escapades - mainly because Sophie thinks differently than most children her age. Her inquisitive nature begs for answers, adventure and experience. Perhaps that is why, at her young age, there is always a glimpse of the older, experienced and cultivated individual that we will get to know in the years to come.

Not too long ago, I recieved an email from Sophie's mother. It read, "Supporting tiny entrepreneur! Sophie has designed and produced twenty SmooshPeople. She will be selling them for ten cents by my desk today, starting at 10:15 am. [P.S. - I'll reimburse the dimes...but she is very excited and I would consider it a great favor.]" I was excited. I didn't know what SmooshPeople were, but they sounded neat. So, I pre-ordered thirty of them. At 10:03 am, I received another email from Mom, "Tiny Entrepreneur had opening night jitters. SmooshPeople still at factory. Will update when she is ready to unveil. [P.S. - Thanks for your patience.]" While I have never known Sophie to be shy or have jitters about anything...being an entrepreneur can be stressful at any age. That said, I was happy to remain patient for my order.

The next morning...

I opened the next email from Mom. It read, "It's on! Spurred by YOUR interest, Sophie will be unveiling the SmooshPeople at 11:30 am in my area. [P.S. - For those of you who pre-paid, we will deliver your's personally.]"

I knew that Sophie's Mom had purchased The Angry Thunderstorm for Sophie. When I opened my bag of SmooshPeople, here is what I saw... Little Thunderstorm SmooshPeople. Each spongey SmooshPerson had black cloud hair. While you can't see it in the picture, each of their arms were painted lightning bolts. And their emotions went from grumpy to a little concerned. Then, from sad to happy...just like the book! I was THRILLED! Like the thunderstorms we encounter, each Smooshie is different and unique. I have them hanging on my peg board at work. It was the best five dollars I have ever spent. I know what you're thinking. I only ordered thirty of them... I threw in two dollars for shipping and handling.

He's A Little Black Rain Cloud...of Course!

Check out this little guy. What is he? Well he's a little black rain cloud, of course. Actually, he's a little pencil-top puppet that one of my creative colleagues dreamed up. Isn't he cute?

Not only is he cute, kiddos and parents alike have fallen in love with him; and he's very easy to make. See the directions below:

Step 1: Cut a pipe cleaner in half.
Step 2: At one end of the pipe cleaner, make a small loop.
Step 3: On the looped end, place a drop of glue (hot glue works best, but
use with caution).
Step 4: Glue a medium black pom-pom to the pipe cleaner loop.
Step 5: Put a dollop of glue on the pom-pom at each side of the pipe
cleaner.
Step 6: Glue a medium blan pom-pom to each side of the pipe cleaner. (He should start to
resemble a cloud.)
Step 7: Glue on two little google eyes.
Step 8: Out of felt, cut out a little lightening bolt mouth and glue it to the pom-pom cloud.
Step 9: Coil the pipe cleaner around the eraser end of a pencil.

Voila! A very simple and inexpensive project to work on with the kiddos that allows them to "touch" the story and engage with the main character. Have a reader's theater where the parent / teacher reads the narrative and kiddos read the storm's voice using their puppet.

We are always looking for neat ideas to share with the kids at our book signings and read alouds. If you have any ideas, we would love to hear from you.