FINDING TREASURE

“ALL MEMBERS OF POST’S JUNIOR DETECTIVE CORPS EAT PLENTY OF POST TOASTIES TO HELP KEEP THEIR BODIES STRONG AND THEIR MINDS ALERT”

This fell right in my lap.  While cleaning and sorting things after my mom’s death a few months ago, I came across an envelope from Battle Creek Michigan.  It was paid by US Postage Permit #52 and marked: CONFIDENTIAL.

“What’s this?”  I asked Dad, picking up a slightly yellowed envelope.

Inside, copyright 1932 was an original membership book for the POST’S JUNIOR DETECTIVE CORPS.  (Manual No. 1 For Detectives, Edited by Inspector General Post)

My Dad was born in 1928, so he would have been four years old when this came out. The address on the envelope wasn't his, so it was either given to him or requested by someone else in his behalf.  He couldn't remember, but for whatever reason, he still had his membership at age 84.I skimmed through the book. 


 “Would you like to have that?”  Dad asked.

I couldn't keep my fingers from twitching.  I’d gone through clothes and books, looked through jewelry and other personal items, but nothing pressed the “need to have” button like the contents of this little black and white booklet. It’s the curse of someone who loves to write historical fiction and loves a good find.

Finding clues:             

Footprints

Written Message
Blotters
Forgeries
Things Left Behind

I flipped excitedly through the book.  In a black box set off by itself at the bottom of one of the pages:

SPECIAL ORDER by Inspector Post “You are forbidden to play detective games with guns, pistols, revolvers, knives or any other weapon that may cause injury.” It went on to explain about not playing with guns and ended: “Don’t ever disobey this rule.”

Still holding the mailing envelope in one hand, something crinkled.  I looked inside and spotted another much smaller envelope.  I opened it carefully.  Wrapped in beige colored tissue paper was a shiny detective badge.  DETECTIVE POST’S J. D. C.

Wow. 

It was hard not to place that badge on a young character for a book.  It would have been the depression years when eating cereal from General Foods and sending in the box tops might have been the only way to get something new.

A full blown character came to mind…a precocious young boy and a neighborhood full of kids. They might have lived in Rockvale, Colorado where the packet was addressed to, or maybe in Denver or some other town.

The character could also have been my 84 year old dad when he was younger.  Someone who walked to school carrying a French horn, wore glasses, wanted to play football, but whose mom thought it was too dangerous…

I looked over at Dad, blinked and traveled back all those years in my imagination, suddenly knowing something about him I never would have seen without the envelope in my hand.  Instead of an 84 year old man, I saw the young boy: Junior Detective # 66954 

Somehow it brought me closer.  

I wrote earlier about whether story ideas find you or you find the story.  Ideas are everywhere, but the ones that capture your imagination and fill you with excitement are the very best…whether you end up writing about them or not.

Thanks, Dad.

Mind Sparks: Lighting the way into the New Year

OR

Ideas that stick like strands of gray hair to a black sweater.

When I think back to the moments book writing topics come alive for me, I can usually pin point them pretty closely.   For instance, I remember the photo of my nephew and stepson in their baseball t-shirts, holding equipment and smiling into the camera in my brother-in-laws, back yard.  A whole story came from that one photo and the ideas it generated and eventually led to my first published book: The Insect Zoo and the Wildcat Hero…later published as Bees, Bugs, and Baseball Bats.

Another example is seeing the original Dog Soldier Ledger book art in the Denver History Museum for the first time.  It’s true I was actively in search of information for a new book, but this particular museum display and one nearby showing a Cheyenne Dog Rope led me down the trail of the Cheyenne culture and eventually to the events of the Sand Creek Massacre.

More recently, a mine tour down the Molly Kathleen Mine in Cripple Creek, spurred my interest in donkeys and their importance to Cripple Creek miners.  Maude Oliver, a fine specimen of a donkey, and her eleven year owner, are currently living a life of their own on the pages of Rescue in Poverty Gulch.  (LIKE Maude Oliver on FB)  https://www.facebook.com/pages/Maude-Oliver/264720393591461?ref=hl

 

 

     

The exact moment of the spark is hard to describe, but I recognize when my mind smiles; it feels like the figurative moment when you reach for the golden ring and wrap your fingers around it…just before the pull.

Of course, there is that “pull” to deal with afterwards. A book can’t be produced from a single “ah-ha” moment.  The fictional path is filled with research, combinations of ideas, twists, turns, ruminations, false starts, stall outs, and sometimes the  magical days of wind surfing.  All of the above and more, but without that first flicker, the fire never kindles. Hold the match and reach out.  You’ll know when the flame starts dancing in your mind.