Since I have a new book coming, I decided a new bio would be nice. The one I've been using for years was bit tired and out of date. I began the bio in a different manner, since people oftenremark on y imagination. I began to look at the way this imagination was honed. Among other things such as reading at an early age and wanting to read everything that had been published, one memory became vivid.
I was a child during the Second World War and this ahd quite an impact. We lived in a town outside Pittsburgh between steelmills and Westinghouse. Union Switch and Signal Company was located across the railroad tracks from the houses. The street I lived on was a short street, starting against a hill and ending a block later. One fascinating place was the concrete stairs leading from out street to the one above. I think there were about fifty steps, at least it seemed that way to me. Wide steps with a handrail great for haging on.
I lived in a row house. Also among my friends were a dozen boys and two girls of around the same age. Since the war was in progress and we were in a rather essential area, there were no street lights at night. We used to sit on the steps to the porch on summer nights and tell stories of round robing. Often these stories featured ghosts, ghouls and other unsavory creatures. Great fun for a summer night.
There were other kinds of stories and great plans we made in case we were invaded. We invented stories of daring-do. Sometimes we put these plans to work. We dug holes in the hillside woods where we played. We wove tin branches and disguised these holes. Imaginations ran wild and sometimes were dangerous. Like the time we found some little snakes. We wanted to know what they were. At my church, there was a man who taught biology. We took out pail of baby snakes to show him. He killed him. Seems they were copperhead, snakes that are born venemous. Lesson learned.
Fromhere we went on to write and produce plays for the neighbors, mostly our families. And that is part of the reason I have this really odd imagination.
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