I'd like to tell you a little about myself and where I'm coming from. I was born in Corpus Christi, Texas just after the Second World War. Boy, if that doesn't make me feel old, nothing will. My real father whom I never met till I was 44 years old was in the Navy and Merchant Marines. My adopted father was a pipeliner. My mother became a hairdresser. I was an only child. Spoiled to the good life till maturity when reality hit with a bang.

Since my folks and I traveled all over the United States, I spent my younger years staring out the back window of a Dodge, then a Buick. I learned to read license plates, and recognize states that way. It's the truth. I studied counting by the cars on the highway. Sounds pretty far fetched for these days, but it's the truth.

Although the word truth was not part of my life when I was a kid in school. You see you carry a large responsibility when you come from Texas. Especially back then, before being a tourist was fashionable. There were rules, and I had to learn them. Rules like, "If your from Texas you must know a lot of cowboys?" The kids would ask in my new school. "Sure," I lied. Didn't know any, but they didn't know that. "You must live on a ranch too." Okay, if you insist, I live on a ranch. "Must own some horses too." Why not, they'd never know the difference. The hard part was the other questions. Questions like, "Does Trigger really live in the same house with Roy Rogers?" Now how was I suppose to answer that? I'd never met the man, but I had seen him in parades. So I figured I had an edge.

Let me tell you, this is a dangerous way for a kid to grow up. My lies would nearly always get to the point of catching up with me and than the "Man Upstairs" showed mercy on me and we would move. I seemed to always time it right. How I'll never know. But it sure taught me that only those little white lies are appropriate in life.
 

I can't remember a teacher's name to save my soul. But I do remember one that left an impression on me. Not because of anything but her own character. She was not beautiful on the outside, rather the contrary, her mannerisms were down right scary, but she had the kindest most thoughtful heart of any teacher I ever met, and I'll never forget her. Remember when you first turned eighteen and everyone wanted to know what you were going to do with your life. Like anyone at that age knows, huh? At eighteen I didn't have the foggiest, there were simply too many choices and that old Libra personality came out in me.

If you had asked me when I was ten, I could tell you for sure, I was going to be a movie star. Yep, I had it figured out. Then I took singing lessons and that changed. Now I could see myself as a real singer--you know Judy Garland type. I hope you know who Judy Garland is. Or I'm gonna really feel old. Then I got real serious around twelve or thirteen, you know how you start taking life seriously. I was going to be a lawyer. That is till I couldn't lick Latin. So by eighteen, I wasn't sure. All the while, I had these beautiful stories in my head with a heroine and a hero, and they fall in love. But at eighteen that started sounding childish. So I dabbled with the pen, and stowed my work in a secret place where only I could read it. Back in the sixties writers weren't looked upon as anything more than starving artist. It was the in thing to be airline hostess or an "Executive Secretary".

But waiting on a man just didn't seem that glorious to me, unless you were married. So I got married. Naturally being an offspring of the fifties there was already a set pattern for young women. You got married had two and a half children (don't ask how they got the half) who knows. You bought a house, just a "starter" house till the hubby got to making more money. Up till then, I'd been doing okay, following all the rules. I had the two kids, the starter house, and odd jobs to fill in with income.

Still, I kept writing stories and getting a little better, and still hiding them away. Then like all housewives I got bored and pulled out the manuscripts and began to get serious about it. I submitted my manuscripts. I faced rejection, and more rejection. Well, you know that story.

I used to run a small day care in my home, so I could help raise my own grand kids and see them safely into school years. I write and read to my children. Writing is my second love. Hopefully I'll have many more years left to do so.

I believe in God, country, marriage, and bringing your children up to know right from wrong, good from bad. All these things are inside of me, in my heart, and I hope you get a broader picture now of the person I am.

The picture below gives you an idea of what a real babysitter's day looks like!

Thank you for stopping by. Click on the symbols below to go directly to my books pages.

PRETEND MOM
NICK'S BABY
HEART OF THE WILD
WANDERING HEART
CHIEF COOK & BOTTLE WASHER