Posts
I have published my first eBook :
THE BEAR WITH TWO SHADOWS.
He waits to show his world at
Link :
THE BEAR WITH TWO SHADOWS.
He waits to show his world at
Link :
http://www.amazon.com/BEAR-TWO-SHADOWS-ebook/dp/B004MDLWD0/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&m=AG56TWVU5XWC2&s=digital-text&qid=1297221020&sr=1-1
My great good friend, Michael Di Gesu, set the design and the text of my cover.
Let's all give him a cyber applause for being one of the best of the good guys!
As I stepped outside tonight and shivered, I felt warmed. Odd you say.
Not really. Not if you knew of the winter I almost died of pneumonia ... and of my mother's tales told to me as I lay coughing in the cold darkness.
My mother was half Lakota Sioux and half Irish. She learned young the harsh truth that sometimes nightmares invade our waking hours to swallow our world.
I, too, learned it early in my childhood. My mother and I found ourselves living in a basement apartment during one of the worst winters in Detroit's memory.
Money was scarse. Food, too. Warmth even more so. Then, the power went out.
For days.
To keep my mind off the numbing cold and my worsening cough, my mother told me tales spun from the legends of the twin worlds of her own youth.
As I lay shivering under my blankets in the darkness, a magical world slowly took shape within my mind. And I was lost in wonder.
Souix legends contested with the fae and foe of Irish myth.
And the cold became only the chill embrace of Estanatlehi, the ghostly Turquoise Woman. Mother told me that while Estanatlehi's touch was cold, her heart was warm.
So the colder I got, the more it made me feel loved, for I knew that an unseen someone was only hugging me closer. And within the shadows at the far corner of my bedroom, I could almost make out the hulking form of the guardian of all hurting children,
Hibbs, the bear with two shadows.
My mother taught me to love winter. It is a season when you feel the bones of the landscape - the loneliness, the solitude of it. Something waits beneath winter --
the whole story doesn't show -- much like the strangers you meet.
And to tell the tale my mother whispered to me in the cold shadows is why I wrote the 80,000 word Native American/Celtic children's fable, THE BEAR WITH TWO SHADOWS.
His world is one that you cannot reach by car. The mind is the only vehicle that will take you there. The only fuels you need are imagination and the ability to still dream.
***
My great good friend, Michael Di Gesu, set the design and the text of my cover.
Let's all give him a cyber applause for being one of the best of the good guys!
As I stepped outside tonight and shivered, I felt warmed. Odd you say.
Not really. Not if you knew of the winter I almost died of pneumonia ... and of my mother's tales told to me as I lay coughing in the cold darkness.
My mother was half Lakota Sioux and half Irish. She learned young the harsh truth that sometimes nightmares invade our waking hours to swallow our world.
I, too, learned it early in my childhood. My mother and I found ourselves living in a basement apartment during one of the worst winters in Detroit's memory.
Money was scarse. Food, too. Warmth even more so. Then, the power went out.
For days.
To keep my mind off the numbing cold and my worsening cough, my mother told me tales spun from the legends of the twin worlds of her own youth.
As I lay shivering under my blankets in the darkness, a magical world slowly took shape within my mind. And I was lost in wonder.
Souix legends contested with the fae and foe of Irish myth.
And the cold became only the chill embrace of Estanatlehi, the ghostly Turquoise Woman. Mother told me that while Estanatlehi's touch was cold, her heart was warm.
So the colder I got, the more it made me feel loved, for I knew that an unseen someone was only hugging me closer. And within the shadows at the far corner of my bedroom, I could almost make out the hulking form of the guardian of all hurting children,
Hibbs, the bear with two shadows.
My mother taught me to love winter. It is a season when you feel the bones of the landscape - the loneliness, the solitude of it. Something waits beneath winter --
the whole story doesn't show -- much like the strangers you meet.
And to tell the tale my mother whispered to me in the cold shadows is why I wrote the 80,000 word Native American/Celtic children's fable, THE BEAR WITH TWO SHADOWS.
His world is one that you cannot reach by car. The mind is the only vehicle that will take you there. The only fuels you need are imagination and the ability to still dream.
***
