So when Mom and Dad left for the day, I rolled-up my sleeves and descended the stairs. Rock walls and floor, I felt like a bear in a cave. In a corner, a room was framed in 4 x 4. Inside: rows and rows, towers and towers of boxes. Dad's stuff.
My plan: anything of value would stay; trash would go.
Many of the boxes were full of books--mostly Reader's Digests: mildew copies, some dating back to the 1920s. I tore out interesting articles and trashed the rest.
When my parents returned I was thrilled to show them the progress I'd made.
Looking back, I'm amazed at Dad's reaction. He didn't scream or blame. He just looked at the remains of his collection with calm acceptance.
Next post: How I Wrote my First Book
This article was published in a knitting newsletter several years ago. On Sunday, April 15 at (approximately) 5 PM PT, I'll share it with you. Now, years later, I don't agree with everything I wrote but... I do bravely on.
Sharing My Author Journey...
And I'm going to spring clean my old blogs, computer files and other places where my writing is stored. If I find anything of interest I'll share it with you.