Samhain Publishing Ltd Weblog

CHILDHOOD MEMORIES

As with everyone, my childhood shaped me into the person I am today… a solitary individual who enjoys my own company more than being with others. Large crowds and gatherings make me uncomfortable. I get claustrophobic so it’s difficult for me to attend writing conferences.

I grew up a loner in a rural area of Maine during a period when much of the country started to merge into the fast lane. I drank raw milk and never went to the doctor. My Dad, a terrific woodsman, provided all our meat and fish. We ate vegetables grown in our garden and canned by my Mom for the winter months. I attended a one room schoolhouse for the first five grades. I watched Ozzie and Harriet at someone’s house once and wondered if families like that really existed. We had no television and no phone. My mother washed clothes a wringer washing machine.

Lest you think I’m complaining, let me assure you, I’m not. I loved my childhood. Unfortunately, my mother didn’t share my contentedness. She divorced my father when I was twelve and dragged me, kicking and screaming, to civilization. My best friend in those twelve years was my imagination, and I know it set the stage for my writing career.

Here are a few of my fondness childhood memories.

1. Running on the lawn in my bathing suit when it rained—even during thunderstorms. I had no fear of lightning strikes.

2. The sweet scent of wild strawberries in the fields.

3. Sinking my teeth into warm ripe plums from my backyard. I can remember the juice running down my chin as if it were yesterday.

4. Catching frogs. I bet I spent twenty-five hours a week doing this in the summer. They were all so tame by September, they didn’t bother jumping, so I just picked them up.

5. Two weeks of bible school every summer presented by a traveling minister. I learned the song Jesus Loves Me.

6. Winter days with my Dad in the woods and the smell of an open fire heating up wild rabbit stew for our lunch.

7. Racing down Pony King’s hill in the winter on my wooden sled.

8. Our once a year summer trip to eat lobsters on the rocky coast. I loved the pungent odor of seaweed and used to “pop” it in my mouth.

9. Pretending our beagle was a horse, his leash the reins. I’d chase him everywhere as if I were galloping on a big, black stallion.

10. Reading, except there were never enough books to keep me satisfied. Thank God for Mrs. Jackson, my teacher, who supplied me with many interesting stories.

What is my point to this blog? I’m wondering that myself. I guess my childhood explains the settings of my books…usually rural or wilderness as in Bed of Lies and Alaskan Heat.

As an adult I returned to my beloved Maine and have no desire to live anywhere else.