July 13, 1966
Jocie Brooke here reporting from Hollyhill, Kentucky. Can you believe that there’s only about a month before school starts again? That’s just not right. Summer should last twice as long as other seasons. Each day needs to matter. Dad says I’m the one who has to make my days matter. I can’t be moping around wishing for impossible things like a swimming pool in the backyard. Can you imagine that? They say lots of people in Florida have swimming pools. They must all be rich.
I don’t have a lot of time for swimming anyway. And creeks are just as much fun. Maybe more. You can’t find pretty rocks in a concrete pool, can you? You can’t learn balance in one of those pools like you can walking on rocks down a creek. You can learn to swim, I guess. I did take those swimming lessons and now I think I might not drown if I get in water over my head. Might not. But just to be on the safe side, I’m sticking to the neck deep water. That’s another thing about playing in creeks. The ones I know about are rarely over knee deep. Very safe. Unless you slip on a rock and bump your head. But I’m not going to do that. I’ve got that balance, remember?
Summer has been fun so far. We had Bible School. I finished writing BAILEY’S BUG. I’ve been to the library every week and got to bring home an armload of books. I read THE ROBE by Lloyd Douglas. Wow! If only I could write even half that good someday. Of course, as Dad says, Mr. Douglas was writing about the greatest story ever told. I was writing about dogs and a cat. A little different. But it’s good to have different stories. Dad says each writer has to write his own story. Or her own story. Dad is always telling me I’m a good writer. That means a lot. And he lets me write articles for the paper. He says that’s great practice putting words together in the best and shortest way possible.
Wes read Bailey’s Bug. He said it was good for a first book. Wes reads all the time. So he should know. He said Bailey’s Bug would be a bestseller on Jupiter because they really like dogs and cats up there. Wes is funny. He says he used to think about being a writer, but then he decided he’d rather just read what everybody else wrote and that someday he’ll be reading my books. I tell him I’m going to write one starring him. That makes him smile. Who knows? Maybe someday I will.
What do you think I should write about?