Who knows where anything really begins? For me, it may have started on the Mother Road— Route 66 from Needles to Barstow. Retracing the steps of Ma and Pa Joad, I watched sweat drip from Daddy's face and a man, hovering, watching, waiting, while Daddy hung the rented swamp cooler from Mama's car window. "No siree, the man said, you can’t cross this desert without one— heat'll do strange things to the mind!"
Great capture of childhood memories so vividly described I th ought I was sitting there beside you in the car or walking hand in hand into the caverns. Beautiful memory jog.
Felix
Linda
This is a glorious write, filled with vivid imagery and palpable emotion and sentiment, you are a truly masterly storyteller, as you suck the reader into the spectacular vision of the story....:)
I have driven Route 66....all the way from LA to Chicago it was a magnificent experience with unforgettable memories..
Love and Blessings
Peter
Using Calgary as a backdrop the author satirizes the self-serving nature of the public as it continues to fatten itself, not only physically, but egotistically as well.
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God Bless
Michelle!
Felix
This is a glorious write, filled with vivid imagery and palpable emotion and sentiment, you are a truly masterly storyteller, as you suck the reader into the spectacular vision of the story....:)
I have driven Route 66....all the way from LA to Chicago it was a magnificent experience with unforgettable memories..
Love and Blessings
Peter