New Year's Resolutions for 1965

December 30, 1964
Jocie Brooke here reporting from Hollyhill, Kentucky. One more day and it will be 1965. Can you believe that? I remember having to get used to writing 1960 on my homework papers. And now I'll be out of school before I have to write 1970. Unless I go to college. Dad says I should, but colleges cost money. He says I can get a scholarship. If I work hard and keep my grades up. So that's why I've got that homework stuff number one on my resolution list.

Do you make New Year's Resolutions? Do you write them down? I think you should else you can just pretend you never really said that you were going to do this or that if you don't have proof. So I wrote down my resolutions and I'm sticking them in the back of my Bible. That way I'll see them every day when I'm keeping that second resolution. 

Everybody should read the Bible through, don't you think? I know there are some chapters that are hard to read. You know, those rules and regulations in the Old Testament about all sorts of things that we don't have to think about now. Dad says that's because Jesus opened up the church for us so that we could get forgiveness without all those sacrifices. He always preaches about that around Christmas time so that we'll remember why Jesus was born. 

But anyway, reading the Bible all the way through is still something good to do, don't you think? I started in January last year, but I only got up to 2 Chronicles. Dad says I can start this year where I left off last year. He says if I'm not going to stick with it, that I should read the New Testament first and then go back to the Old Testament. But I'm going to stick with it this year. I am.

You probably think that third resolution is silly, but I've been telling Wes Zebedee can do tricks. And he can. The only problem is he only does them when he wants to and not when I tell him too. Sometimes he will sit when I tell him to sit, but I think that's just because he was ready to sit anyway. Wes says Zeb can't learn tricks because he's from Jupiter and that up on Jupiter, dogs think they are smarter than people. 

Maybe I should re-think that fourth one. Reading the Bible and Pilgrim's Progress might be too much to expect. Have you ever tried to read Pilgrim's Progress? I read the first few pages last month and it wasn't anything like a Hardy Boy mystery, I'll tell you. But I am going to read it and then some of the classics this year. My English teacher says the best way that I can learn about putting words together is to read the masters. So maybe I should just redo that fourth one to say read a classic novel every month. Maybe Oliver Twist instead.

And of course, you can figure out what I mean by that last one. Tabitha says I'll develop sooner or later. Looks like it's going to be later. I'm in high school. I'm supposed to need to wear a bra. Sigh. 

Oops, maybe I shouldn't be reporting about that. Aunt Love would have a fit if she knew I was writing about my unmentionables. That's what she calls female underwear. Men can talk about wearing shorts, their word for underwear, but not ladies. 

Maybe I should add a number six - to learn to be a lady. But that doesn't sound like a resolution I'd have any hope of keeping.

What's your resolution this year? Did you make any when you where 14 going on 15 like me?
 

When Time Stood Still

December 23, 1964

Jocie Brooke here reporting from Hollyhill, Kentucky on Christmas Eve Eve. How do you like our tree. I needs some strands of popcorn. As soon as I get my homework done, I'm going to help Aunt Love with stringing the popcorn. I'll probably sneak a few bites too. Nobody could have a bowl of popcorn in her lap without tasting some of it. 

I can't wait for Christmas. Why does Christmas have to take so long to get here? Last week before we got out of school for Christmas break, the days were dragging so slow that I began to think all the clocks had stopped. That maybe the sun was standing still. 

Dad preached once about the sun standing still. I forgot what Old Testament book had that story, but I asked Aunt Love. She may be forgetful about other things, but she knows where things are in the Bible. Dad says the Lord must be rewarding her for her many years of storing Scripture in her heart. Dad gave me a look then. I knew what he was thinking, so I told him I'd make a New Year's resolution to memorize a new Bible verse every week. Of course, I did that last year too, and I did memorize some. Made it all the way to March before I skipped a week. But I can't remember them the way Aunt Love can. She can quote Scripture all day and know book and verse too. Anyway, she told me where I could find the Scripture about God making the sun stand still. She said it had nothing to do with Christmas coming, but then when you think about it, everything in the Bible has a little to do with Christmas coming. That is, the Savior being born. 

Here are the verses from Joshua. And the sun stood still, and the moon stayed, until the people had avenged themselves upon their enemies. Is not this written in the book of Jasher? So the sun stood still in the midst of heaven, and hasted not to go down about a whole day. And there was no day like that before it or after it, that the Lord hearkened unto the voice of a man: for the Lord fought for Israel. (Joshua 10:13-14)

Can you imagine that? Had to be pretty amazing. And freaky scary! Dad says you wouldn't have any reason to be afraid as long if you were trusting in the Lord. But think about it? The sun standing still and not letting night come?! People must have been shaking their wristwatches to see if they were broken. Dad laughed when I told him that. They didn't have wristwatches. Of course, I knew that. They told time with sundials. And the shadow didn't move on those sundials for a whole day. 

That's what it felt like at school last week. Time didn't stand still. The sun made its regular up and down circuit, but it did seem slow. But now it's almost Christmas. And I can't wait! Last year I got a new bike. I'm still in a kind of shocked wonder over that. I never thought I'd ever have a new bike. But it's fun to ride without having to worry about the chain popping off or the tires going flat twice before I get anywhere.

What do I want this year, you ask. A desk! I would love to have my very own desk with drawers and a hole for my knees. There's room in the corner of my room. And it would be great to have a place to put my typewriter besides the rickety card table somebody at church gave us instead of throwing it away. 

What is something you wanted for Christmas when you were around my age?

A Cedar Christmas Tree

December 16, 1964

Jocie Brooke reporting from Holly County, Kentucky. I am excited! We got to go Christmas tree hunting Sunday at Miss Sally's farm. I couldn't believe Dad agreed to get the tree ten days before Christmas. He says I have to make sure to keep water in the bucket of rocks so it won't dry out. And that we have to hunt one that's nice and green. 

You'd think with all the cedar trees on Miss Sally's farm that finding a Christmas tree would be a piece of cake. Not so. Cedar trees seem to grow in every size imaginable - except Christmas tree size. 

What is Christmas tree size? One that will fit in the corner next to the door. That's where Aunt Love says it has to go. I campaigned for the spot in front of the window facing the road, but Aunt Love says that's too close to the stove. Her house burned down once a long time ago and she says she's not wanting that to happen again.

Well, I don't want the house to burn down either, but it's not like we'd be putting the tree right next to the stove. But Dad says we have to put it where Aunt Love wants it. Sigh. So anyway, we have to find one that will fit. It can't be too tall. It can't be too bushy. But it has to be nice and green and not be straggly. The first tree is way too small and straggly. You could hardly hang a dozen ornaments on it. The other one here isn't perfect either. It's too tall, but Dad trimmed it up and made it work. It didn't matter than it was flat on one side. We just put that side against the wall. 

Tabitha helped me decorate it and Leigh came over too. She'd never decorated a cedar Christmas tree before. She didn't know it would make her hands so itchy. But she loved the cedar smell. 

Dad just watched and smiled a lot. But then he always smiles a lot when Leigh's around. Aunt Love complained that we were getting cedar needles all over the floor. She went out to the kitchen to get the broom, but must have forgotten she was cross because instead of getting the broom, she made hot cocoa for us. When we heard her getting out a pan, Tabitha went to help to make sure she didn't burn something. Aunt Love can't remember things any more. 

I waited until Tabitha and Aunt Love came back from the kitchen before I plugged in the lights. Tabitha was carrying her baby, Stephen. He laughed out loud when I plugged in the lights. Dad says having a baby around makes Christmas more fun. Stephen's almost one now. 

Did you ever hunt a Christmas tree out in the field and then bring it home to decorate? Did you put icicles on it? We did. Made ours look so pretty. If I hadn't run out of film, I'd have taken a picture of it for you. I can't wait till Christmas Eve.

A Little Snow for a Lot of Christmas Spirit

December 9, 1964.

Jocie Brooke here reporting from Holly County. We have snow. Not much, but a little. I took this picture at Mr. Reynolds' farm down the road. Dad says he might use it in the Banner next week. Maybe that will get everybody in the Christmas spirit - finally. I just don't understand why grown-ups are always saying Christmas comes too fast. It's not fast at all. It takes forever!!

I did find some people willing to pay me a couple of dollars for my sprigs of mistletoe, so I get to go shopping for everybody at the 10 cent store. You can find a lot of things there. Maybe I can get a jigsaw puzzle for Aunt Love - one that's not too hard since with her memory fading she's not as good at working them as she used to be. Then Dad always likes to get new handkerchiefs and maybe I'll add  box of peanut brittle. That's his favorite. I'm not sure what I'll get Tabitha yet. But Wes is easy. He'll want a book. Even though he has a couple hundred of them piled all around his rooms over the newspaper office, he says nobody can ever have too many books. He claims that up on Jupiter his house had bookcases around every wall. Purple bookcases. For some reason, purple is a big color on Jupiter. Probably because I used to tell Wes it was my favorite color so he worked it into his Jupiter stories.

But the snow is really neat even though it's not deep enough to keep us out of school. Another inch would have been nice. Then I could have stayed home and tried to talk Dad into going out to Miss Sally's and finding our Christmas tree. He says it's too early to put up the tree, that it'll dry out before Christmas and maybe catch the house on fire. Cedar trees do dry out fast.

Leigh has an artificial tree. It's white. Not like it was snowed on, but like it got scared and turned into a ghost tree. I wouldn't tell Leigh that, but I think Christmas trees should be green. Zella has this aluminum tree. It's shiny. Very shiny, but whoever saw a tree that was shiny like that. But I guess Dad's right. If we don't want a brown tree on Christmas morning, we'd better wait at least another week before we go tree hunting. Maybe on Sunday. We're supposed to go to Miss Sally's for dinner after church. 

What kind of tree did you put up here for Christmas 1964? Did you ever go shopping at a 10 Cent store? 

Mistletoe and Kissing

December 2, 1964

Jocie Brooke reporting from Hollyhill. It's December. That means Christmas isn't too far away. I love Christmas. I love getting gifts. I like giving gifts, but that giving is harder than the getting. That's because I don't have any money or at least not enough to buy something for Dad and Tabitha and Aunt Love. Wes and Leigh. Miss Sally and... Well, you get the idea. Lots of people I want to give presents and limited, as in very limited, funds.

Aunt Love says I should just make something, but what can I make? I don't knit. I don't sew. I could write them a story, but that would be sort of lame. Dad says not to worry about presents for him. He has everything he needs and us just being together at Christmas is good enough. But I noticed he went shopping for Leigh. 

Last Christmas when they were just beginning to think about dating, Dad bought Leigh a big chocolate candy bar. I'm talking the super-size ones. Sigh. Isn't that romantic? I might even think about falling in love for a super-size chocolate bar. On second thought, there are some things that can't be bought with chocolate. Of course, that doesn't mean I couldn't break off a few squares to taste. Ha. Ha. 

But back to finding a way to finance those gifts. I kept thinking and thinking and mistletoe popped into my mind. That's not as strange as it sounds. It is only a few weeks until Christmas and people need stuff to decorate with.  Bingo! There's where mistletoe comes in. Lovely mistletoe.

Did you know that the name, mistletoe, comes from bird poop on a branch? That's not the image I bring to mind when I say mistletoe. But that's how the stuff gets planted on tree branches. Birds eat the mistletoe berries and then poop them out on the branch. You see mistletoe doesn't grow in the dirt on the ground. It has roots that stick down into the tree branches. It's a parasite plant. Parasites and bird poop - not exactly romantic, but that's not what I think about when I see mistletoe. I think Christmas. And kisses. I've never been kissed under the mistletoe except by Dad, and that doesn't really count.

But mistletoe could be my answer. No, not for kisses. Eeww! Keep that stuff away from the school! No boys there that I'd want to get caught with under the mistletoe. No sir. Now Zella, she might be thinking differently with the way she's moping over Mr. Whitlow. Zella will probably hang some mistletoe right over her desk. Or tuck a spring into the curls on top of her head.

Anyway, I climbed this tree out on Miss Sally's farm and pulled down a big clump of mistletoe. Then I broke it into little pieces and tied red ribbons around it. Took forever, but it did look good. When I showed it to Wes, he said the mistletoe looked like kisses waiting to happen. Then he shoved a dollar into my hand and made me promise that none of that stuff got hung up anywhere around him. He says he left all the girls he wants to kiss up on Jupiter.

Have you ever been kissed under mistletoe? Was it somebody you wanted to kiss?

One Year Later - Remembering President Kennedy

November 25, 1964

Jocie Brooke reporting from Hollyhill, Kentucky. It's been a sad week here in Hollyhill as everybody was remembering the assassination this time last year. Dad put this picture on the front page of the Hollyhill Banner. There was regular news, but it didn't seem to matter than much this week. Or even that basketball season is about to start at school. Oh, the guys still practiced and the cheerleaders were smiling and jumping around like always. Especially that Vanessa who thinks she is sooo cute. Well, she is so cute, but she doesn't have to think she is. Aunt Love would put her in her place quick as anything. Aunt Love says pretty is more than skin deep. I sure hope so since I've got a ways to go to be pretty. Wes says I'm pretty enough, that sometimes girls my age put on blinders when they look in the mirror. I tell him I need his Jupiter mirror that makes everybody look good. 

But none of that kept us from remembering when we first heard the terrible news last year that President Kennedy had been shot in Texas. I was at school, coming down the stairway from history class to health class. Somebody, Jacob Renner, I think, was going up the steps and telling everybody that the president had been assassinated. I didn't want to believe it. I didn't believe it. Jacob's one of those boys who likes to be the center of attention and I thought he was just acting stupid. Maybe. But saying the president had been shot wasn't anything to be acting stupid about. So I didn't know if he was lying or not. I went in health class and asked the teacher. Mr. Kincaid got a funny look on his face and said, yes, it was true. I don't know how he knew. Maybe he has a radio he listens to between classes. Maybe the principal had heard it on the radio in the office and passed along the news. 

However we found out the news, it was something none of us wanted to believe. Not President Kennedy who always seemed so full of life. Who wouldn't even wear a winter coat no matter how cold it was. Who had two kids. Little kids. They were going to feel deserted. I know about that. My mother didn't get shot, but she left. She deserted me a long time ago. Maybe that's even worse since she did it because she wanted to, not because somebody shot her and didn't give her a choice.

But I'm thinking about President Kennedy now and not my mother. It seemed impossible that he would be gone. Even now a whole year later, nobody really knows why it happened. They don't know if it could have been prevented. They don't know if Oswald had help. They don't know so much, but in the years to come, surely answers will be found. 

President Kennedy made some great speeches. Everybody remembers him telling us to ask not what our country could do for us but what we could do for our country. I don't want to forget that. Then Dad put this quote in the article he wrote about the anniversary of President Kennedy's death. "Our most basic common link is that we all inhabit this planet. We all breathe the same air. We all cherish our children's future. And we are all mortal."

Here's another one he said. "Our growing softness, our increasing lack of physical fitness, is a menace to our society." I'm going to remember that, both of them, and try to ride my bicycle more and be thankful this Thanksgiving for the earth air I breathe.

Election Time - All the Way with LBJ

November 18, 2013

Jocie Brooke here reporting from Hollyhill, Kentucky. About two weeks ago we had the presidential election. It was hard thinking about elections and presidents after President Kennedy was shot last November, but there has to be an election every four years for president. It's necessary like getting booster tetanus shots. 

This year Lyndon B. Johnson won in a landslide. Dad said he'd never seen such a lopsided vote. Barry Goldwater, the Republican running, just didn't appeal to voters or so Dad explained. Since I'm not but thirteen, I'm not old enough to vote for several more years, but if you want to write news the way I do, then you have to pay attention to what's going on in the world around you. The campaign slogan for LBJ was something easy to remember. "All the way with LBJ." Short, rhyming words that stick in your head. I did think Goldwater had the best name. Goldwater. That's kind of a neat name, don't you think? But a president needs more than a neat name. He needs votes and President Johnson got over sixty percent of those. A landslide in an election, Dad says. 
 
As a newspaper man, Dad likes elections and politics. For one thing, candidates running for office buy lots of advertisement space. If a person doesn't know about you, he can't very well vote for you. So the Banner gets plenty of ad money in the months and weeks before an election. But then as a preacher, Dad likes to concentrate more on the elect or God's people. He won't talk about elections in church except to say that voters should pray about how to vote and then pray for our leaders no matter whether the one who won was someone you voted for or not. 

Dad preaches about prayer a lot. He says being a Christian and not praying is like having electrical outlets and never plugging anything into them.The power's there, but not being used.

Wes says they don't have elections up on Jupiter the way we do down here. He says Mr. Jupiter just runs everything. I told Wes that sounded like living in the Soviet Union. But Wes says not. He says Mr. Jupiter is more like Yogi Bear and always promising more. That keeps the Jupiter people happy. He also says Earth people are a lot harder to keep happy and that he doesn't think even Yogi Bear could do it even if he had a picnic basket for everybody. But you do have to admit, Yogi Bear's campaign button is cute.

Do you remember any great campaign slogans? We studied one in history. Tippecanoe and Tyler too. I guess rhyming matters in catchy sayings.

  

Veterans Day in Hollyhill

November 11, 1964
Jocie Brooke here reporting from Hollyhill, Kentucky. It's Veterans Day. We had to go to school anyway, but Dad did a special issue of the Banner with stories from some of the veterans. Mr. Haskins who served in World War I was more than ready to share his stories about serving in France. Of course, I'd heard most of them already. When the sun's shining, Mr. Haskins likes to sit on the bench out on the Courthouse yard where he can see the WW I monument, and whenever I'd get tired of hanging around the newspaper office, I'd go down there to sit on the ground and listen to his stories. 

Sometimes he'd tell them to me and sometimes another old soldier would be there talking to him. Those were the best times because they'd forget I was listening and tell it straight without softening the stories for my young ears. They'd talk about going "over the top" into "no man's land" and how the mud in the trenches was so bad it could swallow a soldier's boots. A soldier without his boots was as good as dead, they'd say and shake their heads. Sometimes they'd start rubbing the toes of their work shoes as though to make sure they still had on good shoes.    

Dad's a veteran too. He served in World War II. He was in a submarine, but I told you that already a few months ago. That's where he got the call to be a preacher. All that happened before I was born, but I like to hear about that too even though I've heard that story a zillion times. But some stories never get old.

That's how it must be to Mr. Haskins and Mr. Brown. It's like they need to have the words of their stories out in the air now that they're getting old. Mr. Haskins says he doesn't want everybody to forget that first World War. He said that was supposed to be the war that ended all wars. He'd felt real good going to fight for that. Figured even if he got killed, it would be worth it to never have any other wars. But then World War II came along and it started all over again. And then Korea right on the heels of it.

I went down to see if Mr. Haskins was on his bench today after school. He was, but Mr. Brown wasn't. So Mr. Haskins was sitting all alone staring at the stone memorial with the names on it of the Holly County men who didn't make it home from that first World War. I just sat there beside him for a while. It was a nice day for November, sunny and in the sixties. But Mr. Haskins looked like he might be shivering even though he had on a thick wool sweater. 

After a while he looked at me and nodded like I'd asked him a question when I hadn't said a word. Then he said, "Don't you never forget to remember Armistice Day."

"I thought it was Veterans Day," I said. 

"Started out Armistice Day. President Eisenhower changed it to Veterans Day after the other wars." He shook his head and his eyes got shiny like he might cry. "Don't matter what they call it. Not so long as you remember." 

And I guess he's right. I surprised him and gave his hand a quick squeeze. "I won't forget what you and Mr. Brown and all the others did," I told him. Then I went back to the newspaper office and gave Dad a hug too. Maybe someday Dad will be ready to tell me about his war when he's older and I am too. Because Mr. Haskins is right. I need to remember.

Trick or Treat Time in Holly County

November 4, 1964

Jocie Brooke here reporting from Hollyhill, Kentucky. Things have been sort of crazy in Holly County this week, but then things are supposed to be sort of crazy on Halloween, aren't they?

I'm way too old for trick-or-treating. I never did that anyway. Dad didn't think it was all that good to go around knocking on doors and pretending you were some kind of monster or witch. Better to want to be an angel, he said. That's what he told the church people too. But they've had a party on Halloween since forever. Way before Dad was the preacher there. When Dad said he wasn't sure about celebrating Halloween, Mr. Majors stood up and said they weren't celebrating anything. They were just getting together for some chili and fun for the kids. It was hard to argue with that and after some heated discussions in the church yard and lots of phone calls to Dad, everybody decided it would be okay to have a Fall party with chili and costumes as long as the costumes were something you wouldn't mind having on if Jesus were to come back to get us all that night. 

The most surprising thing about the church party was that Aunt Love said she didn't see the first thing wrong with church people getting together on Halloween. Lots better than them being out playing tricks on people. I guess she remembered some of the things the boys did when she was young. I overhead some of the older members talking about the tricks they used to pull and I could hardly believe they weren't just making it all up. 

But one man said that when he was a boy, they had an old farmer in the neighborhood who was always cranky and never had a good word for anybody. Well, naturally the boys decided to do something really crazy to him and so they took his wagon apart, piece by piece and hauled it up on top of his barn and put it back together up there on the roof. Don't ask me how, but they said they did it. And should have heard how they laughed when they talked about remembering the look on the old farmer's face the next morning when he went out to milk and there was his wagon up on the roof. When I asked how he got it down, they said they helped him without letting him know it was them who did the trick. Did you ever hear of a trick that was so much work? 

There was that year when we got to school the day after Halloween and some tricksters had put poor Mr. Whitaker's gate across the school door. So Dad said maybe it would be good to try to keep those tricksters at church eating chili instead of taking gates off and letting cows out on the road. He told Aunt Love he was going to have to figure out some new sermons to make those older guys not think their tricks back when they were kids were so funny. But I noticed he was smiling too. And Aunt Love said kids just didn't play tricks the way they used to on Halloween. Now all they did was hold out their hand for candy. But what about that old ad that Dad found in the newspaper? I don't know anybody who would ever give out cereal for treats on Halloween. That would be some trick I wouldn't like. 

You Can't Trust Somebody Who Kicks Your Cat

October 28, 1964

Jocie Brooke here reporting from Main Street, Hollyhill.

As you can see in the photo here, not much going on Main Street on a Tuesday afternoon. There are days when I go out and stomp on the sidewalk just to see if I can wake up anybody in the town. But nobody ever rushes out of the stores to see what's going on. The street just sits there empty as ever. Empty might be good if Dad would let me bring my rollerskates to town, but he won't. Now, doesn't that look like the best place to skate you've ever seen, but Dad thinks I might run somebody over. I know how to stop. Now. That time I barreled into Mrs. Jeffries in front of newspaper office, well, she should have seen me coming. She could step to the side easier than I could. I was only beginning to learn to skate then. Besides, my scrapes were lots worse than hers. She hardly bled at all, and Dad made me break into my piggy bank to give her money to buy a new pair of hose. 

Did you ever rollerskate on the sidewalk? I bet you ran over somebody now and again too, didn't you? I sure do wish they'd let us take rollerskates to school. Then it would be easier to make it between classes. Can you imagine everybody on rollerskates? Even the teachers. Mrs. Watson would have to give up those spike heels. She'd probably wobble less on the skates. 

But back to running over things, that Mr. Whitlow is back to coming to sweet talk Zella. Good thing he never stays long or Zella would never get the ads typed up for the paper to come out. She hardly knows her name when he's around. But there's something about him. Something weird - something even more than him acting like he's struck on Zella. And that's weird enough.

He kicked Cat. He did. I saw him. Cat was being halfway friendly. Either that or Cat thought Mr. Whitlow might have a cat treat in his pants cuff. I'd go for the cat treat. Could be Mr. Whitlow had a tuna fish sandwich for lunch and dropped a bit of it in his cuff. Cats have good noses. And they do not like to be kicked! What kind of man kicks a cat just because said Cat is sniffing his pant cuffs and shoes? It's not like he couldn't move around Cat. Cat's very small. Poor thing's been up on the top of the fence ever since. Wes says he'll come down when he gets hungry. Unless he catches a bird. See what that Mr. Whitlow set in motion. I'm thinking he's ready to set something else in motion, but I have no idea what. But it can't be good. Just ask Cat.

So I'm back on the detective trail again. Maybe something will show up on Halloween night. That's when the goblins and ghosts come out, isn't it? Mr. Whitlow is some kind of strange for sure. 

Do you think Zella saw him kick Cat? She gets sort of blinded when that man is around. What would you do if you saw someone kicking your cat?

  

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Nature's Jungle Gym

October 21, 1964

Jocie Brooke here reporting from Holly County, Kentucky. Don't you just love it when the leaves start turning? It makes me just want to start walking through the ones that have already fallen so I can hear that rustling sound. Hard to sneak up on anybody that way. We had this nature person who came and talked to our 4-H Club once. He took us on a hike and stopped in the middle of a field where a lot of leaves were on the ground. He had us all stand in a circle around one person he picked to stand in the middle with a blindfold on. He asked if we thought we could sneak up on the person. He picked me to give it a try.  I've always heard about the Indians being able to walk through the woods without making a sound, but I don't know how they did it. I tried to move the way I thought they would, but I hadn't taken two steps in those noisy leaves before the person in the middle was turned and facing right toward me. There was no way I could walk through those leaves without making a noise. The guide laughed and said I could have tried a different approach and just run as fast as I could so that maybe I could have gotten to the person in the middle before they had time to turn toward me. But I was trying to slip my feet through the leaves quietly. Impossible!

It's more fun to just crunch on through them. And look what I found on Miss Sally's farm. A jungle gym! Well, not one of those bought kinds, but this one is even better. It's nature made with grapevines to swing on and climb around on and do some bouncing on too. They tell you that grapevines don't break. They might not break, but sometimes they turn loose of the tree they're growing around if you pull on them hard enough. 

I love walking in the woods in October. How about you? Is that something you like? What do you like about October?  

Beatlemania in Hollyhill

October 14, 1964

Jocie Brooke here reporting from Hollyhill, Kentucky. Do you know about the Beatles? You have to have heard their song "I Want to Hold Your Hand." I mean, everybody has heard that song. Everybody!! Aunt Love holds her ears if she hears it on my little radio and Leigh, Dad's girlfriend, says they can't hold a candle to Elvis. But I sort of like them. Even if they are from England and have floppy long hair. You have to admit the song is sort of catchy. 

Our 4-H Club got into some trouble because of that song. You see, we have this talent show every year and all the clubs can enter a small group act and a big club act. It's a big thing for the elementary schools. The principals and teachers arrange the acts and they make the kids practice every day. It's sort of a school pride thing and competition. But when you get to high school, the 4-H Club doesn't have all that support and we're pretty much on our own. But we did come up with a club act and sang some show tunes. Not great, but we did it. 

That wasn't why we got into trouble. It was the other act. Four of the boys in our club decided to pretend to be the Beatles and lip sync "I Want to Hold Your Hand." They got wigs somewhere. Don't ask me where! I have no idea. Then they got some drums for the guy who was Ringo and guitars for the others. It was all in fun and like no act you've ever seen at a Holly County 4-H Talent Show. The girls in the club decided to do our part to make it like a real Beatles' performance. So we did a little screaming. You know like the fans do for the Beatles. As far as I know, none of us actually fainted. We were just having fun, but Miss Lester, the principal at one of the elementary schools, was not happy. Of course, Miss Lester is never happy. If she's ever smiled, there were no witnesses. Some grown-ups don't want kids to have any fun. 

Dad gave me a talking to, but I don't think he was real mad or anything. He didn't make me stop listening to my radio even though he's not crazy about the Beatles. He says he doesn't think kids should be acting like four guys from England are some kind of heroes when all they're doing is singing some silly songs. He says the best hero to have is Jesus and I have to agree with that. 

Meet Cassidy from Orchard of Hope

October 8, 1964

Jocie Brooke here reporting from Hollyhill, Kentucky. I'm sorry to be late reporting, but I had a whole page of sentences to diagram. Plus two pages of Algebra and I had to draw a picture of a flower showing all the parts, stamens or pistils or something like that. Mrs. Boggs, she teaches science, is a flower nut. I like flowers as good as the next person but I don't care what their stems are called. Anyway, it took me forever last night, but I got it finished and turned in. 

So tonight, how about I introduce you to Cassidy Hearndon? Never heard of her? Well, I hadn't either until her family moved to a farm out in Holly County. You might not think that too strange until I tell you they're a black family. I guess more than the school is getting integrated this year. The county is too. Dad says the Hearndons' are the first black family to buy land out in the country around the church. In this little scene from that book about Hollyhill, Orchard of Hope, Cassidy isn't sure she wants to come to our church.

    The first Sunday in September when Cassidy Hearndon's mama got her up and said they were going to the white people's church, Cassidy thought about sticking her finger down her throat and making herself throw up. She'd done it back in Chicago a time or two so she wouldn't have to go to school. It had worked them. It might work now, but then her mother would make her stay inside and it was way too hot to be stuck in the house all day shut up in the back bedroom to make sure she didn't share her sickness with none of the rest of the family. Not that the scaredy-cat sickness was catching or anything. 
    Cassidy picked up the dress her mother had laid out for her to wear. It was the green and white one with tulips on it, her very favorite, but she didn't want to put it on. Not till she had to. It was cooler just standing there in her slip and underpants.
      "What in the world is wrong with you, Cassidy Marie?" her mama asked. "Stop moping around and get dressed."
    "It's too hot to get all dressed up and go to church," Cassidy complained.
    "The good Lord didn't say it was too hot when he paid the price for our sins, young missy."
    "Then why can't we go up to the church in town? They like us up there."
    "Now listen to you. We aren't going to church to make people like us," her mama said. "We're going to church to worship, and the good Lord has put a church right down at the end of our road for us to do that. We don't have to spend a half hour and gasoline we can't afford driving to town."
    "But they look at me funny." Cassidy traced one of the tulips on the dress with her finger. She loved tulips. They'd had tulips in their yard in Chicago. Red and yellow and purple tulips.

Cassidy did come to church and after a while she liked it there. She always liked Miss Sally, but then everybody likes Miss Sally. Every church needs a Miss Sally - somebody who loves you just the way you are and makes you glad you came to church. 

     Does your church have a Miss Sally?

Hollyhill has a New Book

October 1, 1964

Jocie Brooke here reporting from Hollyhill, Kentucky. 

Somebody has written a book about us here in Hollyhill! Again! Last year there was that book about all the things I found out in the summer, Scent of Lilacs. Now I'm finding out lots of new things in this story, Orchard of Hope. And some of it happens right here at the Hollyhill Grill. Dad wasn't very happy with my part in that. Not because he didn't think I was right, but because he thinks I'm too young. Dads always think you're too young to understand big issues like the Civil Rights Movement.

Of course I know about that. I read about Martin Luther King Jr. leading a march on Washington. I just never realized things were so divided here in Hollyhill until the Hearndon family moved to Holly County and Noah Hearndon started working for Dad. Boy, did he open my eyes to things I should have known but didn't. His mother rode on the Freedom Train, you know, and he was in the Children's March in Birmingham. That didn't go too well for him or his little sister, Cassidy. Then Miss Sally opened the eyes of folks at the church. Sometimes a church needs revival! And sometimes that revival starts with forgiveness. 

But I can't giveaway the story. That wouldn't be nice. I could. I know the story since I lived it, but you'll just have to read it for yourself. And it's got a cute cover. That's me on the front. I wanted them to put a notebook and pencil on the table with me, but I guess they couldn't find the kind of notebook I like. Narrow ruled with a blue back. But they are letting me drink my favorite milkshake. Strawberry. Yum! 

I hope if you haven't already read my story that you'll look for it wherever you get books. I might even look at the library to see if it's there. Wouldn't that be the neatest thing? To see a book about me at the library. Maybe neater would be to see a book written by me on a library shelf. That's my dream. I love to write. I guess I could have written these Heart of Hollyhill books, but I just can't imagine anybody wanting to read about Hollyhill. Nothing ever happens in Hollyhill. At least it didn't till last summer. And then....

Come back next week and maybe this writer will let me give away some books. Actually this book looks familiar. I think it used to have a different cover, but I have to say I think letting me show up on the cover of the new edition is a big improvement. Don't you?

Miss Sally's Old-Fashioned Ways of Predicting the Weather

September 23, 1964

Jocie Brooke here reporting from Holly County. We were at Miss Sally's house on Sunday. You remember her, don't you? She was the one who took those chickens I won and then let me visit them. She lives out in the country close to Dad's church. Everybody loves Miss Sally. And everybody listens when she talks. Even me. Dad too. He says a person can learn a lot by listening to older people talk. 

Anyway I found this wooly worm in her yard. She says a black wooly worm means a cold winter coming our way. I'd heard that before, but I didn't know crickets could tell the weather. She says if you can find the right kind of cricket and count the number of times it chirps in 14 seconds and add 40 — the result is the approximate outside temperature in Fahrenheit. Also, if a cricket chirps real loud, you'd better be finding your umbrella because it's going to rain.

Miss Sally says there are lots of old-fashioned ways to predict the weather. She asked me if I remembered how many fogs we had in August because every fog then means a snow in the winter and the heavier the fog, the deeper the snow we'll get. Then there are persimmons. Have you ever eaten a persimmon? One that's not ripe does funny things to your mouth. But Miss Sally says you have to cut open the seed to tell the weather. If the inside of the seed looks like a spoon, that means lots of snow. If it's a knife shape, get ready for bitter cold, but if it looks like a fork, the winter is going to be mild. She says we can look for a persimmon tree next time I come to the farm and check out the seeds. 

She says even the smoke from her chimney can let her know when to expect rain. If the smoke seems to be sliding down the chimney to the ground, then it will rain within 24 hours. A ring around the moon predicts rain too. If there are stars inside the ring, that's how many days before it's going to rain. Tree leaves flipping upside down is a good sign of rain too. She says that's just a few of the signs of rain on the way. 

I asked her if the signs really worked and she said she figured people have been watching for weather signs since Adam and Eve were thrown out of the Garden of Eden and that it's a good thing to pay attention to what the people who came before you knew whether it was about the weather or about how to live a good life. 

On the way home, Dad said Miss Sally was right about that, but the weather signs didn't always work, especially that wooly worm one because you might see a brown one and a black one crawling along together and then which kind of winter were you supposed to have? A mixed one, I guess, but then that's the kind of winters we usually have. Some cold days. Some not so cold days. So maybe the wooly worms are still right. 

I told Wes that, and he told me he had a sure fire way of predicting the weather. A Jupiter rock. I asked him how it told the weather. I should have known better. Here's what he said. "When the rock is dry, the day is fair. When it's wet, it's raining. When the rock is white, it's snowing. When the rock disappears, it's snowed a lot."

I think I could find a weather rock like that right here on Earth. Do you know any signs that predict the weather? Do you believe they're right?

Jupiter Watermelons and Carbon Paper

September 16, 1964

Jocie Brooke here reporting from Hollyhill, Kentucky. Thank goodness, I managed to stay out of trouble at school this week so that I could write this report. Did you like Dad filling in for me last week? He wouldn't let me read it. Said that was part of my punishment for getting in trouble with Mrs. Jackson. 

I can't believe that of all the English teachers in the world, I had to get Mrs. Jackson. You won't believe what she did this week. She told us we could write a story about whatever we wanted. She said we had to make carbon copies. That it would be good practice. I hate making carbon copies. I put two pieces of paper together with the carbon paper in the middle and immediately I mess up. It's guaranteed. Then you're supposed to somehow correct it and that makes a bigger mess. Then you've got black on your fingers and you touch the top page and well, you get the idea. 

And Aunt Love says paper doesn't grow on trees, but she's meaning money, not paper. Paper actually does grow on trees, doesn't it? Anyway, I'm no good at carbon copies. Zella can type three copies at once and never make mistake one. She and Mrs. Jackson must be best friends. Maybe that's it. Maybe Zella has asked Mrs. Jackson to make my life miserable. 

Anyway, I wrote the story, made the carbon copy, turned it in. She said my story was too unbelievable. She also said I needed to learn to spell occasional/ocassional. Who can ever remember if it's two c's or two s's? Neither one of them look right. Then she wrote in red on my paper that just because a writer knows a word with four syllables doesn't mean she has to use that word instead of one with one syllable. She was just being too picky on that one. I only used inordinately once. Well, maybe twice. Indiscriminately.  

So what was this story about that I was supposed to be able to write about whatever I wanted? Wes, of course. I just wrote some of his Jupiter truths, like if you tell lies on Jupiter you break out in purple spots or how Mr. Jupiter gives all the space travelers up there three buttons to press if they get in trouble on other planets. And how my dog, Zeb, might really be Harlan from Jupiter if Wes can be believed. Zeb didn't mind me writing that, but Mrs. Jackson did. She said it was time I wrote something somebody could believe. You believe me, don't you? So see, I already have. Written something somebody believes. Thank you very much!

Wes says Mr. Jupiter sends people like Mrs. Jackson to one

of the Jupiter moons to raise Jupiter melons. He says folks on Jupiter love Jupiter melons. That they're like our watermelons only blue instead of red and without seeds. Real tasty, he says. I can go for the blue, but whoever heard of watermelons without seeds? Now if I'd written about that, Mrs. Jackson might have been right to say it was unbelievable. 

So now I've got to write something else. By tomorrow. Something boring. Something Mrs. Jackson can believe. Maybe I'll write about Mr. Whitlow and how the man can't be trusted. Of course, I'll have to change his name and pretend he's in Chicago or somewhere. Anywhere except Jupiter. Mrs. Jackson has a problem with anything Jupiter. 

If you could write a story about anything, what would you write about? And did you ever have to make carbon copies of what you wrote? How did you keep the paper from shifting and making shadowy letters? 

Jocie in Trouble at School

September 9, 1964

David Brooke here filling in for Jocie who got in trouble at school for eating a Tootsie Roll in class. She claims she just took a little bite in the hallway between classes. It wasn't her fault that Mrs. Jackson picked on her to answer the very first question in English class and that chocolate sort of dribbled out of the corner of her mouth when she tried to answer. She knew the answer, but then Jocie always thinks she knows the answer. That's part of her problem. 

I shouldn't say that. Jocie's a great daughter and I can't find much wrong with her. She works hard at the paper. She helps Aunt Love who is having more and more memory problems. She mostly manages to be respectful to the church people. She's a favorite of several of the members there although I think some of them are just entertained about what Jocie might say or do next.

I'm just glad she's full of love, wants to make people smile, and likes being my daughter and living in Hollyhill. And that she's not much like her mother. Adrienne was beautiful. She knocked me off my feet at first sight, but I should have stepped back and taken a deep breath before we ran off to get married. 

I was home from the war on leave for my father's funeral. I was getting ready to ship out. Well, ship under might be a better way to say it since I was going down in a submarine. I was going to be swallowed in a deep sea of loneliness for a long time and Adrienne was so beautiful. Real beauty is more than skin deep. I found that out. Not sure Adrienne has yet, but I pray for her. I don't love her anymore. I don't know that I ever had the proper love for her. Attraction, that's for sure, but real love that lasts a lifetime takes more than that. It has to grow and wrap tendrils of caring around one another to tie two people together for life. 

I was willing to try to make that happen, but Adrienne wasn't. She deserted us. Deserted Jocie long before she actually left Hollyhill, but that's a different story. One I should tell Jocie before I tell the world. If I could find the right words. Maybe I need to add that to my prayer list. The right words.

Jocie always has plenty of words ready. She's a great writer already and getting better all the time. But I can tell she and her English teacher are going to butt heads this year at school. So I'm trying to nip this problem at school in the bud. Not letting her write last night was the worst punishment for her. She loves writing. She said she had to write this report, that people were expecting her too. I asked her how many people. She said five or six at least, and who knows? Maybe as many as ten or fifteen! I told her that she should have thought about that before sneaking bites of candy at school. 

She looked at me like I'd lost my mind and asked what being hungry could have to do with writing this? And was it her fault that Tootsie Rolls took so long to chew? Hadn't I seen the ad I put in the Banner last week? I asked her hadn't she. She should have known better. I thought she was going to cry when she knew I was serious about not letting her write. I can't stand to see her cry, but I couldn't give in. A father has to maintain a little discipline. So I told her I'd write this piece for her. That way you'd know why she didn't get it written last night.

She's off to school today. No telling what note she'll bring home from the teachers this week. She's really a great daughter and I love her so much. If she gets in trouble again this week, I'll make her sweep the press room. That needs doing anyway. And she won't mind that. She'll get to talk to Wes. Wes would do anything for Jocie. But then so would I. Even try to get her to figure out a way to get along with her teachers!

Back to School - Disgruntedly!

September 2, 1964

Jocie Brooke here reporting from Hollyhill. Sadly. Disgruntedly. (That word was in my Learn Ten New Words a Day book. Doesn't it sound the best? Like a mad pig or something.) I guess I shouldn't say sadly. The first day of school isn't really a sad day. Dad says I should try to come up with exact words for what I want to say and not just pull out whatever's handy. 

But I don't really know how I exactly feel about starting school tomorrow. Every morning I'll have to get up early and try to get my hair to look like something and see if I can grab a skirt and blouse that maybe match. Leigh says clothes should match, but I haven't exactly figured out what she means by matching. I don't care about clothes, but it would be nice if I could comb my hair into some kind of decent order. 

I don't want to tease it and make it into a stiff beehive like Vanessa. You know, she's the cheerleader all the boys swoon over. I guess they like sprayed stiff hair, but at least if I run into a spider web I can shake it out of my hair with my fingers. The spider would just settle down in blissful happiness in Vanessa's hair and wait for the next bug to come along and get trapped in that beehive cone of hair. No more building webs necessary. Not that Vanessa would ever be out in the woods or anywhere she might run into a spider web. But maybe I'll tell her I see a spider in her hair anyway. Just for fun. Sigh, I guess I'd better not. I might get sent to the principal's office on the first day of school. Dad might find some exact words to tell me that was not a good thing

School's really not so bad. And I have my typewriter now. I can type my themes. Well, I could if I didn't make so many mistakes. I did filch this old typewriter eraser out of Zella's trashcan. I took a picture of it for you up above. Zella got a new one. She doesn't like it when the brush gets all sprangled out. Sprangle is a word, isn't it? Sounds exact to me. It's not easy correcting typing mistakes even with it. But boy, are they easy to make! My fingers stumble all over the keyboard, but Dad says with practice I'll get better. Maybe I'll just save my typewriter ribbons for fun writing and do my school writing the old fashioned way with pencil and paper. Mrs. Johnson, the high school English teacher, is picky about the papers you turn in anyway. Not just the words of the assignment either. I've heard the kids talk about her. No papers torn out of a wire bound notebook. Fringed edges send Mrs. Johnson over the edge. No light pencil marks. No messy ballpoint pens. No red or green ink. No creativity allowed in that class. 

Creativity will conquer though. It'll just get slowed down by back to school. Did you like starting school every year? Ever use one of those typewriter erasers or tease you hair into a beehive? Tell me about your school days. It might jump start a little creativity and give me reason to practice my typing. I did figure out how to make a sideways smile. :) So all that pounding on the typewriter keys accomplished something!  

A Writer's Dream

August 26, 1964

Jocie Brooke here reporting from Hollyhill, Kentucky. Do you see what's in the picture? A typewriter! My very own typewriter. Mr. Atkinson, the lawyer in the office across the street from us, bought his secretary a new typewriter and let me buy her old one for twenty dollars. 

I had to break my piggy bank, but who needs all those nickels and pennies anyway. That change along with the dollars I had stuffed down in my sock drawer for a rainy day or more importantly, a typewriter to fall down out of heaven, were just enough. Mr. Atkinson laughed when I spilled out five dollars in pennies, nickels and dimes on his desk, but he said money was money as he raked it off his desk into a box. He even gave me a couple of never used typewriter ribbons and let his secretary show me how to put them on. She barely got any black on her hands from the ribbon, but when I tried it, my fingers found plenty of ink. But I'm used to that. I get ink on me all the time helping Dad and Wes print and fold the newspapers for delivery. I can never keep from touching my face. The blacker my hands, the more my nose itches. Wes is always telling me I look like a spotted dog.

I don't care about a little ink on my nose. The good thing is that now I can be a "real" writer and type up my stories instead of just scribbling in a notebook. Dad says writers write all different ways, but famous writers have typewriters. Dad says Ernie Pyle always had a typewriter with him when he was reporting from the war. He found this picture in an old newspaper to show me. 

Other writers too. Book writers. They have to have typewriters. Maybe I'll write a book someday. Maybe a mystery like Agatha Christie. Or those Hardy Boy books. Maybe something mysterious will happen here in Hollyhill. I guess it doesn't have to actually happen if I'm writing fiction. Say a stranger comes to town and he's up to no good. A smart and very cute newspaper reporter starts digging into why the man's here and saves the day. 

Well, I haven't figured all the plot points out. You can't write a book in a day. But you can get started - when you have a typewriter. I'll go to sleep smiling tonight!

Did you ever have a typewriter and dream of writing a book?

I

Sleuthing like the Hardy Boys

August 19, 1964

Jocie Brooke here reporting from Hollyhill Main Street. Well, actually I'm not on Main. I'm out on Barton Road where we live. Cleaning my room. Not by choice! But Aunt Love says it has to be done. She says I'm a pack rat. That's not true. Not exactly true anyway. I simply like to save my books and papers. But she says some of it needs to go before the new school year starts and I begin collecting a new year's worth of papers. I don't save them all. Hardly ever the math ones, but always the English ones. I love diagramming sentences, don't you? Figuring out which phrase goes where. It all makes so much more sense then. 

And why would anybody ever want to get rid of books? Books can be read over and over. So, she's right. I probably will never read my Hardy Boy mysteries again, but just looking at them makes me remember all the great fun I had reading about Joe and Frank and their sleuthing. 

Sleuth - see there's a great word. If it's a noun, the dictionary says it's a detective. If it's a verb, then it's more fun. Verbs are, you know. More fun. Anyway then it means "to act as a detective." I used to wish a mystery would pop up in front of me when I was reading all about their exciting adventures. I could do some sleuthing. But it's a fact that nothing exciting happens in Hollyhill. Even if Wes does say that the whole town in full of strange characters. Strangely ordinary and hardly mysterious. He's the most mysterious guy I know since he says he's from Jupiter. The planet. The Hardy boys and I know that's not exactly true, but Wes hasn't ever said where he is from. It drives Zella crazy. She has to know everything about everybody in Hollyhill.

Of course, now that Mr. Whitlow is driving her crazy too. She can't figure him out. He told her he was from some little town up close to Chicago. So what does Zella do? She calls a newspaper up there and talks this woman who answered the phone into looking in the phone book for a Whitlow listing. None. Not one. And the woman said she'd never heard the name. 

Now, how could that happen in a little town something like Hollyhill, Zella asked the air in front of her desk. She wasn't talking to me. Didn't hardly seem aware I was even standing there. So I didn't answer. I just let her keep talking to herself. Thought I might hear something interesting about Mr. Whitlow. Something that might be mysterious enough to call for some sleuthing. 

Wouldn't it be funny if Zella and I teamed up to do some puzzle solving like Joe and Frank Hardy? Zella and Jocie. That wouldn't just be funny. That would be insane! And not apt to happen unless the world starts spinning backwards or something. 

But no way am I throwing away my Hardy Boy books. I might have to read them again to get some pointers in this sleuthing stuff. Maybe I can part with a few history papers instead. Aunt Love will be happy if she sees me toting out a box full of junk. She won't look to see what's in it. So a few history papers, a few worn out pairs of underwear, those kiddie magazines Mrs. Wilson keeps bringing to church to give me after her grandkids read them. Dad says I can't say no. That I have to smile and act like I can't wait to read some bunny rabbit story so Mrs. Wilson will feel good. Even if it is for babies! But nobody said I had to keep them forever and with them gone, I'll have more room for real books.

August 19, 1964

Jocie Brooke here reporting from Hollyhill Main Street. Well, actually I'm not on Main. I'm out on Barton Road where we live. Cleaning my room. Not be choice! But Aunt Love says it has to be done. She says I'm a pack rat. That's not true. Not exactly true anyway. I simply like to save my books and papers. But she says some of it needs to go before the new school year starts and I begin collecting a new year's worth of papers. I don't save them all. Hardly ever the math ones, but always the English ones. I love diagramming sentences, don't you? Figuring out which phrase goes where. It all makes so much more sense then. 

And why would anybody ever want to get rid of books? Books can be read over and over. So, I probably will never read my Hardy Boy mysteries again, but just looking at them makes me remember all the great fun I had reading about Joe and Frank and their sleuthing. 

Sleuth - see there's a great word. If it's a noun, the dictionary says it's a detective. If it's a verb, then it's more fun. Verbs are, you know. More fun. Anyway then it means "to act as a detective." I used to wish a mystery would pop up in front of me when I was reading all about their exciting adventures. I could do some sleuthing. But it's a fact that nothing that exciting happens in Hollyhill. Even if Wes does say that the whole town in full of strange characters. Strangely ordinary and hardly mysterious. He's the most mysterious guy I know since he says he's from Jupiter. The planet. The Hardy boys and I know that's not exactly true, but Wes hasn't ever said where he is from. It drives Zella crazy. She has to know everything about everybody in Hollyhill.

Of course, now that Mr. Whitlow is driving her crazy too. She can't figure him out. He told her he was from some little town up close to Chicago. So what does Zella do? She calls a newspaper up there and talks this woman who answered the phone into looking in the phone book for a Whitlow listing. None. Not one. And the woman said she'd never heard the name. 

Now, how could that happen in a little town something like Hollyhill, Zella asked the air in front of her desk. She wasn't talking to me. Didn't hardly seem aware I was even standing there. So I didn't answer. I just let her keep talking to herself. Thought I might hear something interesting about Mr. Whitlow. Something that might be mysterious enough to set my mind to sleuthing. 

Wouldn't it be funny if Zella and I teamed up to do some puzzle solving like Joe and Frank Hardy? Zella and Jocie. That wouldn't just be funny. That would be insane! And not apt to happen unless the world starts spinning backwards or something. 

But no way am I throwing away my Hardy Boy books. I might have to read them again to get some pointers in this sleuthing stuff. Maybe I can part with a few history papers instead. Aunt Love will be happy if she sees my toting out a bag full of junk. She won't look to see what's in it. So a few history papers, a few worn out pairs of underwear, that kiddie magazine Mrs. Wilson keeps bringing to church to give me after her grandkids read it. Dad says I can't say no. That I have to smile and act like I can't wait to read it so Mrs. Wilson will feel good. But nobody said I had to keep them forever and with them gone I'll have more room for books.

Do you love books? Did you read the Hardy Boy mysteries when you were a kid? Did you wish you could solve a mystery like them?