So looky here . . .

It's Father's Day.
And I just want to make it clear that when I say I wish I'd had a childhood like my character Jessie in my tween novels, I don't mean I wish I'd grown up with a prescient baby brother, a mother who worked at the post office, and most importantly, no father.
I cherish my childhood with my father, and now that he's gone I miss him at the oddest moments.

Dad and his three bathing beauties, circa '62 or '63

Like now.

When I published my first book of poetry, my father carried the announcement from the newspaper folded in his wallet, and showed it to people as if it were a birth announcement.  Which in my case it was, and I think he realized (although he hated to admit it,) that clipping was the only sort of birth announcement he'd ever be able to show off from me. That he did this has always touched me, almost beyond belief.

He read the galleys of my memoir, but didn't quite make it to see the publication.  Coyote Summer he never got to read.
But I'd like to think he'd have been proud of it too.

It's Father's Day.  And it doesn't really make any sense to get you a polo shirt anymore.  But just in case you're watching, here is my first blog review.  You can show it around if you want.

Review on TweenBookBlog