I was a skinny little shy kid, not very well known
by the other campers, not much of an athlete, and always the last
to be chosen for any team event.
"Herman Junior, it's your turn to tell a story," said
Mr. Harris, scout-master....Troop-187, "Get-up.....get-up there."
My heart skipped a beat, my knees buckled, and my mouth went dry.
I felt sick and wanted to crawl under the log I was sitting on.
I had never successfully told a joke. Now all these ears were waiting
to hear a story come out of my mouth, the very mouth that felt like
it is filled with cotton, wads and wads of dry cotton.
I stood and looked across the fire and into a set of bright eyes
that were sparkling from the lights and colors of the roaring campfire. I started to cry. My face began to contort as big tears ran
down and fell from my boney cheeks. And out of nowhere, I mean no
where........To this day I have no idea where those words came from.
I constructed and acted out the scariest ghost story Camp Panther's
Landing had ever heard. For ten, twelve, maybe fifteen minutes,
I was in control. I had totally captivated the minds of all 21 campers
and 6 camp leaders.
When I was finished, my audience went wild with cheers, whistles
and applauds. They wanted...."more....more....more."
"That's all for tonight," Mr. Harris said, "I'm
sure we'll be able to talk Herman Junior into telling us another
story tomorrow night. Now off to bed....you knuckle-heads."
For the remaining three days I was the most popular kid in camp.
And at night....around the camp fire....I was the only show in town.
I danced around the camp fire acting out the characters in the scary,
impromptu tales I wove.
On the last day of camp, as we were waiting to be picked up by
our parents in the parking lot, kids were telling their parents
about my ghost stories. "Next year Herman Junior, I'll be waiting
to hear some more good stories," called a camper, and the other
campers in the parking lot applauded. I took a bow, and for the
first time in my young...lonely life....I - felt - proud.
For the next year I did all my school work and home chores. I was
always a loner, so no one noticed when I stayed to myself and wrote
my first book, "A Collection of Ghost Stories".
Camp Panther's Landing campfire was my stage for six nights a
year. There, I acted out and read the intriguing stories I had written
during the off season. That is, until the 4th day at camp.....1955.
It was just after the noon meal when I entered hut #15, a hut I
shared with five other campers, when I noticed a group sitting on
my bunk reading my handwritten manuscript.
"Herman Junior, where did you learn to spell?" asked one
kid. "My baby-sister is only six months old and she spells
better than you," laughed another.
Everyone laughed and had their own spelling-joke
to narrate. I snatched the manuscript and ran from the hut and
into the woods, where I felt most comfortable....and alone.
In 1955, no one knew of dyslexia. Herman Junior was just another
retard that became the brunt of jokes for years. I burned the manuscript
and walked away from writing.
1971.....Not until my 2nd year on the San Diego Police Department
did I pick up the need to write again. I started by writing a diary
of my events as an undercover cop on the streets. I wrote the diary in a story
format,and once again I was bitten by the writing bug.
I am dyslexic. When I read a book, I add punctuations
such as commas, exclamation marks, and dots and dashes to help my
eyes flow easily across the pages of print. My books are written
in this style to make reading a joy for the 27% of the population,
like me, who suffer each day with this learning disability.
November 14, 2001...."Stop talking about this book you are
going to write and sit down and write it," my wife Edwina barked.
So..I did, and with her help, And They Called Me Uncle Tom:
Volume I & II became my first published novels. Uncle
Tom's Hanging Tree is completed and ready to be published.
I am writing Last Case, my 4th novel, and doing
research for my 5th, Face to Face.
Like that skinny, shy kid at Camp Panther's Landing in the early 50s,
I have a lot of stories up my sleeve. I just hope you enjoy reading
them. |
