Not a Book in the House

Reflecting back, I realized my love of reading grew exponentially while sitting on some newspaper customer’s doorstep.  Whether I was perusing the Saint Paul Pioneer Press in the morning or the Saint Paul Dispatch at night I found myself immersed in short stories about a world I never knew existed.

Reading had never been a part of my life before I started a paper route.  Newspapers, magazines and books were luxuries my mother couldn’t afford. There was never any reading material in our house save for one book on Padre Pio. My mother probably bought that book out of guilt some Sunday morning after Mass.

About the same time I began a newspaper route my friend introduced me to our local library.  The first book I read was ‘The Enemy Below’ since I was fascinated with World War II; go figure. Then Tarzan, the Hardy Boys and western novels carried me into a world my imagination readily devoured.

 

Since that initial brush with the printed page, reading has always been an important part of my life.  There will never be enough time to read all the books I’ve got piled up around the house. We have libraries for the grandchildren here and there. Each has their own library in their rooms. Books matter to all of us.

So it was rather a shock to learn that a number of kids in my community have no books in their homes.  Like any suburb facing a growing diverse population, I found the disparity in reading levels simply amazing. Last summer my wife spearheaded a campaign to collect and distribute books for the local Head start and EL (English Learner) programs in Dakota County, Minnesota. She collected over four thousand books and, of course, they all passed through our house.

Photo Credit | Sun Newspapers

In Dakota County alone, over 1600 ELL students will use the books.  At the September 30th meeting of Apple Valley Rotary, District 196 Superintendent Jane Berenz spoke about the Reading Recovery Program in ISD 196 and how the intervention program has helped the literacy level of first graders.

She explained “the ELL Program in district 196 supports learners in acquiring the English they need in order to succeed in the classroom and beyond, in accordance with the State of Minnesota Guidelines and English Language Proficiency Standards.  Teachers who are fully certified in teaching English as a Second Language work with these ELL students at all ele-mentary, middle and high schools in the district.”

Ms. Berenz went on to explain that the ELL program develops English skills in reading, writing, and speaking, as well as the language of academic content.  The ELL staff is trained in the same best literacy practices as classroom teachers. She said the need for simple children’s books is critical for these students to practice their reading skills.

The program is working…and well.  Out of the twenty-three seniors who were in the English Learner program for last year, nineteen students were enrolled in a two-year or four-year college. Fourteen students were heading to a two-year college and five were going to a four-year institution of higher education.

Alongside the ELL program is the Head Start Program.  Laura Gilkey, Director of head Start for Scott, Carver, and Dakota County accepted over 2000 books for the Head Start Program. Head Start is a child development program that serves children from birth to age five years and their families. Head Start works closely with local school districts to provide early intervention services for children who need it.

And I thought four thousand books flowing through our house was a bit much last year.  Next summer my wife has a goal of collecting ten thousand books for those two programs. I can’t decide which size tent I’ll need to live in once that begins.

But to bring the world of reading to these children and open up a whole new world for them is a small price to pay for cramp quarters and books piled up in every corner of our house.  I’ve been there. I know what it’s like to be transformed into another world of rolling seas, desert plateaus and the young boys down the block. I return to those worlds every chance I get.

And feel blessed to be able to create them myself for others to enjoy.

Strange People Are Following Me

Strange things began to happen when I started self-publishing my novels. It started out as small steps; really just tip-toeing into this ever-changing literary wilderness and trying to figure out to attract an audience to my works. 

                                               My Official Author page on Facebook

I experimented with advertising on Facebook and after several stumbles I seem to have hit a vein of interest among my targeted demographic audience. Gradually, people began to read my books and then to’ like’, ‘comment on’ or ‘friend’ my author page. 

I’m not so bold or confident as to think that it’s a reflection on me but rather (I hope) my story-telling abilities and the fictional characters that I’ve created there-in. I expect that these folks care as much about Daniel and Colleen and Jeb and Charlotte and what happens to them as I do.

Then, ever careful to follow social media standards of etiquette,  I took the eye-opening opportunity to peruse my reader’s Facebook pages and examine the kind of individuals I’ve been attracting with my stories; both the westerns and “Love in the A Shau,” my coming of age love story set in the sixties.

I was shocked…or perhaps a better word would be surprised. I’m not sure what I was expecting but I was surprised never-the-less.

Somehow I had foolishly painted this picture in my mind of my ideal reader. I thought I knew what he or she might be like. Yet in reality it wasn’t based on anything more than some naïve assumption of who I thought would be attracted to my stories and characters. 

Several attempts of advertising on Facebook to reach a female audience for “A Shau” were initially met with disappointing results. We weren’t even getting close to attracting the kind of woman I thought would like “A Shau.” Then we changed our demographics and things began to improve…considerably.

Let’s just say the women who like “Love in the A Shau” (and I’m surmising here and perhaps tip-toeing on sensitive ground) are little like some of the women in the novel except perhaps for Summer Storm.

Most of them probably didn’t go to Bryn Mawr but they value education. I’m may be taking a chance here but I’d guess they’re very sensitive, romantic and have connected with my protagonist Daniel on a very emotional level. They feel an affinity for his socio-economic place on campus and in life. I’m guessing that’s because they knew other young men just like him in real life.

Their comments tell me they appreciate the honesty and rawness of that period and how it affected young people. Perhaps for some of them, “A Shau” was a glimpse back into a collegiate life not unlike that of ‘The Great Gatsby.’ Whatever their motivation, their responses have been heartfelt and much appreciated. I owe them all a deep debt of gratitude and feel a tremendous responsibility to deliver more of the same in future novels.

And as for the men who like my westerns. Well, let’s just say most of them didn’t go to Oxford or Yale. They hale from the United States, the U.K., India, Asia and Australia. They’re down to earth, blunt, realistic, opinionated and strong-minded. I would gladly bend an elbow with any one of them at a pub or go on Recon. if I could.

They like guns and motorcycles. Many of their political views border on conservative. The places where we meet in the middle are in their love of their grandchildren, their thirst for individual freedom and liberty, music of the people, love of country and an unabashed pride in who they are and where they came from. I’m guessing that despite our many differences, there are just as many points in the middle where we could enjoy a beer or two and solve most of the issues in the world in some pub around the world. 

 Surprisingly my readers and I share more in common than I ever imagined. Like Daniel and Robert, my two protagonists in “Love in the A Shau” and “Debris,” I am uncomfortable among the moneyed elite that frequent many parts of Palm Springs and our society in general. These suito-intellectual, class-conscious folks see their status in society as ordained and well earned. They mistakenly assume that luck or inheritance had nothing to do with their million dollar house on a golf course or the Bentley they drive. Their class-conscious, intellectual arrogance belies a lack of class on so many levels.

My readers are an interesting lot and I’m glad to have them. Literature abounds with dozens and dozens of genres and sub-sets thereof. I’m not trying to attract the literary hounds who shadow the New York Times Best Seller List for new arrivals. I write what I want to write.

I tell stories for a living. I like telling stories and as long as there is an audience for my kind of story, I will continue to spin my tales and engage my readers with wonderful characters, interesting backgrounds and a twist or two in the process. It’s a journey we’re all on and it’s been one heck of a ride thus far.

I’m much more comfortable around the folks whom I associate with in my real and fictional life rather than the literary elite. My audience and my friends are the really honest ones around here.

Under the Yum Yum Tree

(Spending the Weekend at Nana and Papa's House)

Much like Christmas Redux, I was once again caught in the middle of some serious situations that I didn’t know how I was going to get out of.

There was this old girlfriend who had dumped me with a Dear John letter. Now she was suddenly hinting that she’d still like to ‘be friends’… except that she was practically engaged to some prince on campus. Within days, I was scheduled to appear in front of the disciplinary board and would probably be kicked out of school. My best buddy was struggling with his drug and alcohol addiction. My new girlfriend had just dumped me and was threatening to send her father after me. On top of all of that, there were three hard-ass fraternity football players who were looking to whoop my ass if they ever caught me in the Triangle Bar again.

So it wasn’t quite the best time for me to be playing chutes and ladders, candy land bingo, swinging from a monkey bar or racing my corvette up and down the cul-de-sac. Those races, in particular, were never fair. Brennan’s Hummer always crushed me on the turns and Charlotte’s Jeep rolled over me more often than not.

The grandkids were coming over… only this time they weren’t leaving. It was another weekend at Nana’s and Papa’s house. It would probably fulfill its advanced billing as fun, exciting, stressful and enormously time-consuming…for me. Another unofficial break from my writing. It’s one of those things you do because that’s what grandparents must do when inquiring minds want to know… about everything.

Reading and game-playing is always paramount on our weekend agenda.

Our backyard is usually a menagerie of rabbits, squirrels, black crows and birds of every species. All of it under the Yum Yum tree. The porch is perfect for bird-watching even in the rain.

Even race cars need to rest sometimes.

 

 

After the park, there’s only one restaurant to go to – Culvers

Fishing at Great Grandma’s house in Wabasha

Portraits by Denis

  

Portraits by Brennan 

 
 

Portraits by Charlotte

A tractor fair takes them to a grandpa’s farm they never had a chance to visit.

Aquatic challenges at the water park

Brennan and Charlotte are gone now. My rewrite of “A Shau” has been completed and is being edited as I write. I have pictures to remember that weekend and some pleasant memories too. But none of that really matters; neither the rewrite nor the pictures nor the memories on my part.

What really matters are the fragmented, fragile memories that both Brennan and Charlotte have captured in their plastic sieves of brain matter. I can’t know nor might I ever know what they remembered of that weekend. There were other weekends that preceded it and there will be many more to come after it.

All I know for certain is that something will be remembered. It might be something profound or maybe something minor and silly. But there will be a memory here and there that will become the hallmark of that weekend at Nana and Papa’s house.

Could I ask for anything more?

I think not.