Posted in Inspirations, Wisdom, tagged 1940s, America, Author D.J. Houston, Freedom, Heartland America, Inspiring Stories, Mystery Novel, Social Commentary, WW II on May 26, 2014| 2 Comments »
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Posted in Holiday Stories, Celebration, Nostalgia, tagged 1940s, America, Childhood Memories, Coming of Age Story, Heartland America, Humorous Stories, Inspiring Stories, Mother's Day, Mystery Novel, Social Commentary on May 9, 2014| Leave a Comment »
Mark Twain
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Posted in America, Holiday Stories, Celebration, Nostalgia, tagged America, American Literature Treasures, Author D.J. Houston, Freedom, Heartland America, Historical Fiction Books, Intrigue, Mystery Novel, Social Commentary, WW II on June 30, 2013| 2 Comments »
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Faith In America by Donald Zolan
Before the second half of 20th Century America happened to her citizens, most kids who weren’t beat up too much for their choices were fairly capable — able to focus their attention on the world in front of them long enough to finish a task and get something done on their own.
Even in the cities, even during wartime, people looked out for each other’s kids . . .
As for what happened to the nation and to the minds and morals of her people in the decades that followed . . .
Copyright©2007, 2013 D.J. Houston. All Rights Reserved.
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Posted in Holiday Stories, Celebration, Nostalgia, tagged 1940s, American Family Life, American Tall Tales, Author D.J. Houston, Childhood Memories, Christmas Stories, Historical Fiction Books, Humorous Stories, Mystery Novel, Social Commentary on December 28, 2012| 2 Comments »
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by Norman Rockwell
Being from England and therefore born eccentric, of course it should have been predictable that Aunt Julia would serve weird food. . .
If the classic English nursery rhyme “Sing a Song of Sixpence” comes to mind, common sense would have to suspect it contained the remains of four-and-twenty blackbirds baked in a pie — even to a six-year-old like me . . .
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Copyright©2010, 2012 D.J. Houston. All Rights Reserved.
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Posted in Mystery, Intrigue, tagged American Literature Treasures, Author D.J. Houston, Intrigue, Life Journey, Magical Mystery, Mystery Novel, Social Commentary, Storytelling, Wisdom on November 10, 2012| Leave a Comment »
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Painting by Michael Lang
“I don’t want to believe in monsters and scary things in the night like other kids do, Mama.”
Her response was calm and earnest.
“The goodness of human nature makes it hard to look at evil’s face. So people make up stories about monsters instead.”
While I cogitated that, she added, “Sometimes they do it for fun.”
That made me smile, so she went on . . .
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Copyright©2010, 2012 D.J. Houston. All Rights Reserved.
Posted in Havenwood School, tagged American Family Life, American Tall Tales, Author D.J. Houston, Funny Stories, Havenwood School, Literary Fiction Books, Mystery Novel, Social Commentary, Wisdom on September 9, 2012| Leave a Comment »
Timmy kept pacing the front yard like a penned up billy goat, clenching his teeth and slamming a battered baseball back and forth with a stinging hand against his old stitched-up catcher’s mitt while he muttered out loud to himself.
He was obviously suffering his own case of walloping doubts about my having to start going to school.
In the first place, it was his school. And the idea of his naïve, snot-nosed little sister attending that same school would never fit in with his master plan, even if he had one. But it was the only school around so he had no choice:
Copyright©2007, 2012 D.J. Houston. All Rights Reserved.
Funny Stories – Havenwood School – Social Commentary – American Family – Mystery Novel
Posted in Life Lessons, Family, School, tagged American Tall Tales, Author D.J. Houston, Coming of Age Story, Havenwood School, Historical Fiction Books, Humorous Stories, Life Lessons, Mystery Novel, Social Commentary on August 10, 2012| Leave a Comment »
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You can call it bribery if you want to, I don’t care. Other than the possibility of getting to see pickled brains in a jar, I was looking forward to going to school about as much as slopping hogs for the rest of my life . . .
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Copyright©2008, 2012 D.J. Houston. All Rights Reserved.
Posted in America, tagged America, American Literature Treasures, Author D.J. Houston, Freedom, Heartland America, Historical Fiction Books, Intrigue, Magical Mystery, Social Commentary, Storytelling on June 28, 2012| 2 Comments »
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Faith In America by Donald Zolan
Before the second half of 20th Century America happened to her citizens, most kids who weren’t beat up too much for their choices were fairly capable — able to focus their attention on the world in front of them long enough to finish a task and get something done on their own.
Even in the cities, even during wartime, people looked out for each other’s kids . . .
As for what happened to the nation and to the minds and morals of her people in the decades that followed . . .
Copyright©2007, 2013 D.J. Houston. All Rights Reserved.
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Posted in America, tagged America, Coming of Age Story, Freedom, Heartland America, Historical Fiction Books, Mystery Novel, Secrets, Social Commentary, World War 2 Veterans, WW II on May 24, 2012| 13 Comments »
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It was a time of new necessity for Man. For despite any halt to the march of evil, that war had turned humanity inside out when the white-hot specter of an atom bomb shocked and awed a pre-dawn New Mexico desert and twice carried death to Japan.
Yet no one could begin to grasp the consequences; it was too impossible to confront that such a thing as an atom bomb could ever happen in the first place.
Even after the war, top-secret scientists kept right on with the military to convince each other, time and again, that bombs do, indeed explode, while regular Joe civilian had no clue of such experiments. And anyone who might have been aware felt powerless to stop them. So they did nothing.
Families were reunited with their military loved ones the world over, and did what they could to reorient them to whatever became of their lost years at home.
Livestock and chickens and barns and crops and bank accounts needed tending, leaving little time to ruminate about the war. And with new enterprises springing up as manufacturing shifted to producing wares and gadgets for the new Consumer Age, earning opportunities outside the home soon grew abundant for adults and young folks alike.
Not that play wasn’t fun and important to youth back then; if anything, a crippling Great Depression with a Second World War on its heels had led Americans of every age to value their freedoms and pleasures more than ever.
But work is its own reward. If you don’t believe me, ask someone who has none. And with more choices that come to a freer people, we could enjoy work more than ever, too.
All the kids I knew did chores, before and after school. And those who had already proven themselves as volunteers for war efforts on the home front had a long leg up when it came to getting hired for the paying jobs.
With no TV screens to spectate at for hours on end, and decades yet before the advent of ubiquitous shopping mall arcades, video games, and personal phones and computers, young people tended to play hands-on at the game of growing up.
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Copyright©2007, 2014 D.J. Houston. All Rights Reserved.
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Posted in Holiday Stories, Celebration, Nostalgia, tagged America, American Ancestry, Author D.J. Houston, Inspiring Stories, Irish in America, Nostalgic Stories, Social Commentary, St. Patrick's Day, Storytelling on March 11, 2012| Leave a Comment »
‘Tis said that St. Patrick’s Day brings out the Irish in all of us 😉
A holiday originating in Ireland over a thousand years ago, St. Patrick’s Day is celebrated in many countries around the world each March 17th. (more…)
Posted in Mystery, Intrigue, tagged Childhood Memories, Heartland America, Inspiring Stories, Intrigue, Life Lessons, Magical Mystery, Mystery Novel, Nostalgic Stories, Social Commentary, Valentine on January 14, 2012| Leave a Comment »
New Year’s Eve had come and gone to the tune of Aunt Julia’s piano and a rousing Auld Lang Syne . . .
Our old house was almost done mourning the departure of its Christmas tree. Mama was back to baking for Birdie’s Kitchen and school had just gotten good and started again.
Then, on the 30th of January, a roaring blizzard slammed its way out of Canada like a bull shot loose from a rodeo pen and pummeled everything south of it from Michigan to Texas and east to the ocean . . .
Photography by Anna Laura Livinal Belanger
Copyright©2010, 2013 D.J. Houston. All Rights Reserved.
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Posted in Inspirations, Wisdom, tagged Author D.J. Houston, Childhood Memories, Heartland America, Historical Fiction Books, Inspirational Stories, Inspiring Stories, Intrigue, Life Journey, Social Commentary on December 11, 2011| 2 Comments »
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It was the first time I can remember ever having a Christmas tree — and a real one, at that.
When the idea of saving the forests first came into vogue, we tried using a silver tinsel one. Then one of those phony white ones with the “snow-flocked” branches for a while. And years of “realistic” plastic green ones I never liked, either.
I never knew when I’d remember my last Christmas tree. So I thought it fitting to commemorate that first one now, and the imprint it left on my life. . .
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From the novel HAVENWOOD TALES Beginnings by D.J. Houston
Copyright©2008, 2012 D.J. Houston. All Rights Reserved.
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Posted in America, Holiday Stories, Celebration, Nostalgia, tagged 1940s, American Literature Treasures, American Tall Tales, Author D.J. Houston, Fantasy Fiction, Funny Stories, Historical Fiction Books, Magical Mystery, Native American Stories, Social Commentary, Special Teachers, Thanksgiving Play on November 18, 2011| 30 Comments »
Maybe my next big break in life would be on the stage. Maybe it wouldn’t.But it promised to be a hallmark moment for Havenwood.
On the Friday night before Thanksgiving, to entertain our parents, siblings, other family, friends of family, friends and family of their friends plus teachers, older students and their entourages and anyone else we could recruit, my classmates and I scrunched together on a platform stage in the school cafeteria — under a huge, hanging, paper mache’ cornucopia stuffed with eight hundred pounds of real vegetables — and put on a Thanksgiving play.
The invitations read:
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You Are Cordially Invited
To Attend
The First Annual Thanksgiving Play
Havenwood School Cafeteria
Fourth Friday of November
The Year Nineteen Hundred Forty-Six
Seven O’Clock in the Evening
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I was cast as a Pilgrim woman cradling a baby doll that was swaddled in an itchy Indian trading blanket.
I even conceded to wear a Puritan dress with a huge, white, stifling collar and a bonnet tied under my chin, just to please Miss Greenlee. It was completely out of character for me, of course, but at least I didn’t have to pretend to have a husband.
I wished she’d just let me play Squanto, though. Nobody else came close to looking like him. And thanks to Miss Greenlee’s research, we’d grasped the sense of honor it must have taken for Squanto to persuade all the tribes to help the Pilgrims, considering how he’d been tricked away to Spain to be sold into slavery and then had to escape, and finally returned to America only to find his own people gone.
But his was another story . . .
Clifford Buck wore some beaded moccasins and his granddaddy’s fringed-sleeve buckskin jacket, beating a ceremonial tom-tom while the audience gathered, to pay his tribute to Squanto and the Indians. I was grateful to see that.
Little Betsy Alcorn played a Pilgrim child standing next to a lanky farm boy named Percy Miller, who was happily dressed as a minister, collar and all.
Clayton Cox played a turkey posted next to the cornucopia. He’d been stuffed into a burlap sack filled with tissue paper, and had a red-beaked mask on his face and tree twigs sticking out the back for an avante-garde tail feather look. Since he couldn’t see with his mask on, his not-so-secret admirer, the Indian Princess Prissy Schwartz, kept inching closer to center stage, trying to get next to Clayton despite his bulky costume.
Other classmates wore more Pilgrim and Indian costumes. And Miss Greenlee had even let Bobby Blackstone and Teddy MacDougal be Indian braves, so long as they agreed to wear pants, left their tomahawks at home and checked their war cries at the door . . .
And when the lights were dimmed, we knew we’d waited nervously and long enough.
As we streamed single-file onto the stage, the whole place erupted in cheers and applause, so when I crossed through the glare of the spotlight, I forgave Miss Greenlee completely for not casting me in such a prominent role as Squanto.
Since she hadn’t let Bobby and Teddy wear war paint, none of our Indians looked particularly savage, and I didn’t see any old veterans in the audience to get riled up about it if they had. I figured the churchgoers could favor the Pilgrims, regardless, and nobody would be reluctant to bow their heads for the Thanksgiving prayer. Surely family and friends would still like us, no matter what happened.
Prissy and Minister Percy served as the narrators. Others had their lines. All I had to do was to not drop my baby doll, say “Dear Lord, we appreciate all the help these fine Indians give us,” on cue, and remember to smile at the end when Bobby and Teddy started dancing to Clifford Buck’s tom-tom.
We were good to go . . . Most of the vegetables stayed in the cornucopia. The cornucopia stayed more or less where it was, except for when blind turkey Clayton got his tail feathers caught in the rope while he was wiggling around trying to scratch himself.
But the audience finally quit gasping and holding their breath as soon as the cornucopia stopped swaying, and nobody ran from the stage. Nobody got hurt and nobody sued, nor would they have thought to back then. And hardly anyone forgot their lines — if they did, Miss G was right there in the wings to remind them before they ever had a chance to feel embarrassed.
The show was a hit! Our Thanksgiving play would be remembered, hands down, as the highlight of Havenwood School’s Novembers for years to come.
~
Copyright©2010, 2013 D.J. Houston. All Rights Reserved.
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Posted in Author D.J. Houston Notes, tagged 1940s, American Literature Treasures, American Tall Tales, Author D.J. Houston, Childhood Memories, Coming of Age Story, Freedom, Funny Stories, Heartland America, Humorous Stories, Social Commentary, World War 2 Veterans on August 31, 2011| 12 Comments »
D.J. Houston, Author
What a Summer it’s been for America! Not to mention this extraordinary 21st Century on Earth.
As for our tale of Havenwood, I can only reveal that — following a summer of brave adventures, some startling misadventure and plentiful mystery after Trudie Beth McAfee’s precocious encounter with Gabriel White Cloud Walling — the era of her childhood freedom threatened to become an empty memory, as time drew near for. . . the inevitable — SCHOOL.
Here’s some FUN for you (circa 1946) 🙂 Enjoy! (more…)
Posted in Inspirations, Wisdom, tagged America, American Literature Treasures, Art Artists, Coming of Age Story, Inspiring Stories, Life Journey, Magical Mystery, Native American Stories, Secrets, Self Awareness, Social Commentary, Special Teachers, Spirits & Ghosts on April 27, 2011| 15 Comments »
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I must say, I had the most godawful urge to stick my tongue out at spiteful old Miss Hickey, the Latin teacher. Her mission in life since before she was born had apparently been to hate anything and everything new and different; that much seemed obvious. But I’d figured out enough about human nature to know that it probably wasn’t really me she was mad at. I just didn’t know who.
I did put an end to her using me for a firing range, though. Daring, considering she had that willow switch hidden under her desk. But it was easy!
One day, I hung outside her classroom door with my arms stacked full of fresh library books till she sniffed me out. And when she huffed over to shoot me the daggers, I just gave her my goofiest grin.
Now, nobody EVER smiled at Miss Hickey. So after both her eyes popped out of her head and rolled on the floor like gumballs (. . . that’s how I saw it, anyway), needless to say, she never bothered to glare at me again. Blame it on the power of imagination, if you like. But, hey — Mission accomplished.
With reading treasures I culled from Havenwood School’s library and the books of her own Miss Greenlee loaned me — books filled with beautiful illustrations and intriguing photographs that could tell their stories without even needing words — the whole new world Mama promised me when I first started school was mine to explore every day.
Through books, I could marvel at masterful statues in London and Greece, canal boats in Venice, four seasons in Paris; explore Ireland’s pastoral sheep farms, and scamper with wild goats in the Scottish Highlands.
Aboriginal Dreamtime
I could wonder at the linear depictions of skinny Egyptian queens and kings and track the hieroglyphic stories of their lives. I could listen to Dreamtime Story spirits of Australia’s Aboriginal people, and feel the throbbing rhythms of African Zulu warriors dancing the hunt as their pictures came alive for me. And I could dream of my life’s journey carrying me across the vast oceans of earth, to make friends with fascinating people in foreign lands.
Through books, I became enthralled with the art and culture of my Native American ancestors, and amazed by the genius of Renaissance Men in America. Benjamin Franklin, George Washington Carver, witty Samuel Clemens with his pen name, Mark Twain, all spoke to me.
And I would later come to know the Founding Fathers of my nation, and realize–after the dark years that followed my own generation’s folly–how much the character of these great men and others of their ilk helped shape a Neo-Renaissance awakening.
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Copyright©2011, 2014 D.J. Houston. All Rights Reserved.
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Posted in Inspirations, Wisdom, Life Lessons, Family, School, tagged American Literature Treasures, Author D.J. Houston, Coming of Age Story, Heartland America, Historical Fiction Books, Inspiring Stories, Irish in America, Mystery Novel, Paranormal Stories, Social Commentary on January 22, 2011| 8 Comments »
Warned by a tipsy Aunt Julia that they must let their dinner settle before any sledding or they’d suffer life-threatening stomach cramps, Timmy and the cousins made a sugar-headed dash for the yard, where they managed to keep themselves occupied sailing well-aimed snowballs at Aunt Julia’s fat cats. At least until she caught them in the act, confiscated their slingshots and shooed them, sleds and all, off to the hill.
My pleas to join the boys ignored, I was sentenced to “Be a good young lady, Trudie dear, and tidy up the dining room.”
Posted in Inspirations, Wisdom, Mystery, Intrigue, tagged American Ancestry, Author D.J. Houston, Inspirational Stories, Life Journey, Magical Mystery, Native American Stories, Natures Beauty, Paranormal Stories, Social Commentary, Spirits & Ghosts, Wisdom on November 10, 2010| 16 Comments »
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CONTINUED from Life Lessons – Truth and Autumn Dreams
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“Your grandmother Meda used to bring me to this place when I was a very young girl. We could talk about anything here.”
My mother’s mother, Meda, left this world before I was born. She was a full-blood Shawnee Indian, the daughter of my majestic great-grandparents whose keen eyes still watched over us from their tintype photograph high on our living room mantle.
Instinctively proud of my Native American heritage, I felt honored to be part of a ritual she had once shared with my mother on that giant rock overlooking the stream in the hidden woods . . .
Posted in America, Life Lessons, Family, School, tagged 1940s, American Family Life, Childhood Memories, Freedom, Historical Fiction Books, Native American Stories, Secrets, Social Commentary, World War 2 Veterans on October 13, 2010| 8 Comments »
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I was only just getting to know my father then. Or at least what he’d become.
He’d been away to war so long, I’d even begun to wonder if I’d only imagined the times when the uniformed man in the picture frame on Mama’s dressing table lingered next to my crib to play with me by the light of a tiny nursery lamp, tickling my toes and fingers until we laughed out loud at each other.
As the years blended one to the next, the promise of his constant presence in my life dwindled to little more than a mist of wishful thinking, if I thought of him at all.
Envelopes with foreign stamps and the feelings that broke in Mama’s voice when she read passages from his letters to Timmy and me helped keep Daddy alive for us. The scene I caught of Timmy in front of the chiffarobe, sniffling and blowing his nose on his sleeve while he tried on Daddy’s hats, made its mark, too.
He reminded me of a sycamore tree with his tall, lean build and sturdy limbs. His skin was white when he rolled up his sleeves to wash his hands in the wintertime. And his hair was as shiny black as a raven’s wing, only curly . . .
He had a sort of handsome face, I thought, with a strong jaw and a high forehead like Timmy’s. His eyes were the hazel, Irish eyes my own eyes echoed. But I was just beginning to see him as something more than a stranger who’d been smart enough to marry my mother. And she said the war left him with troublesome things on his mind.
I figured he wasn’t ready for me to tell him about Mister Walling.
She was a pretty, plump brunette with light bronze skin and dark violet eyes, who liked to wear aprons with big pockets and her shoes as seldom as possible — a rare free spirit, inclined to practice the time-honored values of her Native American mother over those of her English father.
And while I knew she would hear with her heart whatever I had to say without belittling my reality, some innate, protective instinct prevented me from giving her reason to have to mention Mister Walling, or suffer undue concerns about my comings and goings.
My sweet, brave mother had found balance in her life and I didn’t want to upset it.
She was grateful to be home in her own big kitchen, cooking and baking . . . with all the sugar and spices and herbs she needed or wanted — away from the hard times she’d endured at the Sand & Gravel plant after Daddy went to war and the money ran low, when rationing of everything from milk to nylon stockings was in full swing and we could no longer survive on barter from our Victory Garden yield alone.
Timmy and the boys at school didn’t have to collect used paper and metal and rubber for the war production scrap piles anymore. And I didn’t have to stay with that overbearing woman who smelled like pork cracklings and made me call her “Aunt Millie,” while Mama worked long hours at the plant with too many ladies who wished their men were home.
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Excerpts from the novel HAVENWOOD TALES Beginnings
Copyright©2006, 2013 D.J. Houston. All Rights Reserved.
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Posted in Inspirations, Wisdom, tagged Author D.J. Houston, Fantasy Fiction, Gifted Children, Inspiring Stories, Miracles, Mystery Novel, Natures Beauty, Paranormal Stories, Secrets, Self Awareness, Social Commentary on October 4, 2010| 7 Comments »
(This excerpt follows “Common Sense Freedom – Heartland America“)
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Mama’s gentle reminder faded behind me into the line of thirsty sassafras and yellow-blooming poplar trees on the north shore of Silver Bear Lake.
I was off to meet my destiny.
Drawn by the gift of instinct and trails of friendly bellflowers smiling at me from their delicate, bending stems, I trekked waist-deep through a grassy field and found myself in a vast wildflower meadow, spread around me like the fragrance of wonderland.
Posted in America, Life Lessons, Family, School, tagged 1940s, American Family Life, American Literature Treasures, Author D.J. Houston, Freedom, Heartland America, Historical Fiction Books, Inspiring Stories, Mystery Novel, Social Commentary, WW II on September 29, 2010| 17 Comments »
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Faith In America by Donald Zolan
Before the second half of 20th Century America happened to her citizens, most kids who weren’t beat up too much for their choices were fairly safe and capable — able to focus their attention on the world in front of them long enough to finish a task and get something done on their own without fear of harm. . .
Even young children could be sent to run an errand, trusted not to meet an early end by a generation of parents and grandparents whose worst fear was that a youngster might actually starve to death if he didn’t learn some skills and self-reliance. And even in the cities, even during wartime, people looked out for each other’s kids . . .
Everybody knew their neighbors, anyway, at least around Havenwood. Scum didn’t stand much of a chance.
As for what happened to the nation and to the minds and morals of her people and their leaders in the decades that followed, it wasn’t television or movies or video games or computers, not guns or even the internet wars and poison food and water that turned out to be the real hidden culprit — as folks in a new awakening would come to realize.
Suffice it to say that, when I was a child, the art of dumbing down humanity with drugs and glorifying violence to masquerade as “culture” under the guise of “human nature” and “news of the day” had not fully taken hold yet as the modus operandi to convince folks life was dangerous, so they wouldn’t look too deep.
People in places like Havenwood could still seek solace in their churches. And there was still contentment to be found in the plain, old-fashioned friendliness of small town life, and common sense in family.
That the grownups in my early youth weren’t terrorized by a constant barrage of televised bad news sandwiched between phony-baloney commercials was a godsend. The ominous newspaper headlines and spurious hawkings of must-have wares and miracle cures on the radio were bad news enough back then.
But we didn’t have a TV yet. And we didn’t subscribe to the newspaper. And by 1946, the radio no longer had a war to report.
No one at my house was very interested in bad news, anyway. And except for old Miss Hickey, nobody at school cared much about it, either.
We didn’t even have school shootings when I was a kid. No student would dream of bringing a gun to school in the first place, now that the war was over, unless they needed it to shoot some supper on the way home. They could just store their guns in the principal’s gun case, next to his.
As for the day of fearing one’s child might fall prey to some counselor dispensing make-you-crazy “happy pills” to adjust their behavior if they wiggled too much or (god forbid) they thought outside the box, the idea of turning children into zombies was so far-fetched, it would have been hard to imagine even a Nazi Germany could have thought that one up. . .
Which is all to say that during those fleeting years between wars, in mid-20th Century Heartland America, life was safer for a child for awhile — especially a curious and outspoken one like me. And able to live a life less influenced by artificial style and false opinion, with plenty of worthwhile work to go around, kids enjoyed a lot more freedom in general.
And so it was, in early summer 1946, that I could wander off unfettered from our family picnic at Silver Bear Lake on a gorgeous Saturday morning, leaving my brother Timmy to fish and run wild with our stair-stepped trio of freckle-faced, farm boy cousins while the grownups played their dominoes.
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Excerpts from the Coming Novel HAVENWOOD TALES Beginnings
Copyright©2007, 2013 D.J. Houston. All Rights Reserved.
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Posted in Inspirations, Wisdom, Mystery, Intrigue, tagged Author D.J. Houston, Inspiring Stories, Life Journey, Miracles, Mystery Novel, Native American Stories, Paranormal Stories, Social Commentary, Spirits & Ghosts, Visionary Fiction on September 9, 2010| 17 Comments »
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Mister Walling was, pure and simple, a world of his own. And he was different from anyone anywhere I’ve been since the days of Havenwood.
Truth be told, I rarely ever saw him. It happened in the course of my living that the journey itself absorbed me more than my quest for truth. And yet Gabriel White Cloud Walling became an indelible part of my life, as necessary as my dreams and the ground I walked on . . . . .
He never intimated there was anything out of the ordinary about his appearance. And I really enjoyed looking at him.
His condition seemed so natural, it never occurred to me to ask if there might have been strange circumstances. Or an accident at birth. Or any other meat-brained question I already knew wasn’t the answer. And because he conducted himself as a quiet and unassuming, good-natured creature and I’d heard no one complain or say he was odd, it seemed to me, initially, that folks around Havenwood had accepted him for the miracle he was — until I realized that he was never spoken of.
Photocanvas by D.J. Houston
Yet the best I could track, Mister Walling had lived deep in the same patch of woods past the north shore of Silver Bear Lake above Havenwood for well over half a century before I even met him. And he didn’t seem to me to be what folks would call a bona fide recluse; he just preferred to keep to himself, choosing his people and causes of his own accord.
His value sprang from the stories he shared with a privy few of each new generation. And those he touched knew in their hearts that a visit with Mister Walling promised, if just for a moment, a freedom from the stream of time — something sacred, eternal and true.
I think another reason he was so special was the fact that whenever you arrived to him, he already knew why your were there, whether you knew why or not.
Excerpts from the opening of HAVENWOOD TALES Beginnings
Copyright©2006, 2014 D.J. Houston. All Rights Reserved.
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Havenwood Tales 
Life in Havenwood – The Miracle of Mister Walling
Posted in Inspirations, Wisdom, Mystery, Intrigue, tagged American Literature Treasures, Author D.J. Houston, Inspiring Stories, Life Journey, Miracles, Mystery Novel, Native American Stories, Paranormal Stories, Social Commentary, Spirits & Ghosts, Visionary Fiction on June 17, 2016| 2 Comments »
HAVENWOOD TALES ~ BEGINNINGS
“And as predictable as the cycles of the moon, you felt immensely alive and fortified in his presence, imbued somehow with your own capacity for higher understanding . . .”
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Mister Walling was a world of his own. And he was different from anyone anywhere I’ve been since the days of Havenwood . . .
Truth be told, I rarely ever saw him. It happened in the course of my living that the journey itself would absorb me more than my quest for truth. And yet Gabriel White Cloud Walling became an indelible part of my life, as necessary as my dreams and the ground I walked on . . .
He never intimated there was anything out of the ordinary about his appearance. And I really enjoyed looking at him.
His condition seemed so natural, it never occurred to me to ask if there might have been strange circumstances. Or an accident at birth. Or any other meat-brained question I already knew wasn’t the answer.
And because he conducted himself as a quiet and unassuming, good-humored creature and I’d heard no one complain or say he was odd, it seemed to me, initially, that folks around Havenwood had accepted him for the miracle he was—until I realized that he was never spoken of.
Miracle of Spirit
Photocanvas by D.J. Houston
The best I could track, Mister Walling had lived deep in the same patch of woods past the north shore of Silver Bear Lake for well over half a century before I even met him.
He didn’t seem to me to be what folks could call a bona fide recluse; he just preferred to keep to himself, choosing his people and causes of his own accord.
Hindsight might prove that his legacy lived in the stories he shared with a privy few of each new generation. And that those whose lives he touched would know in their hearts that a visit with Mister Walling promised them, if just for a moment, a freedom from the stream of time—something sacred, eternal and true.
“But the reason he seemed so special to me as a child was that whenever you arrived to him, he already knew why you were there. Whether you knew why or not . . . ”
Excerpts from HAVENWOOD TALES Beginnings
D.J. Houston, Author
Copyright©2006, 2016 D.J. Houston. All Rights Reserved.
Mystery Novel – Life Journey – Paranormal Intrigue – Visionary Fiction – Inspirations
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