Fiction
Story Telling
Making up stories for my brothers, sisters, cousins and friends came easily in childhood and I continued it with my own children (See Finding a Path “Rocking Chair Stories,” p. 128). Very few were written down until I started writing them with my grandsons.
Harry with Liam, Asa, Zephyr Nate and Ben (left to right)
Stories with my Kids and Grandkids
2007 A Birthday Story for Asa (& Zephyr).
A walk through Aspen with pictures of animal statues produces a story for grandsons.
(6 pp with pictures)
2009 The Amazing Adventures of Z.
A boy with special powers has several adventures.
(3pp)
2010 The Hidden Valley.
On a vacation a group of boys find a hidden valley, a stallion who talks, and aid him in protecting his herd.
(4pp)
Nate and Farak Avert a Tragedy
Nate and his Muslim friend Farak build a spy drone and avert an atrocity. (3 p)
A Poem Exchange with my Grandson Zephyr
In 2008, when he was 6 years old, my grandson, Zephyr Gilmore, wrote this poem and read it to me by video. In response, I wrote a poem back to him. Please enjoy our exchange below.
UP AND DOWN
by Zephyr Gilmore
UP AND DOWN
by Harry Strachan
1. Yoga
Arms held high,
My rotator cuff screams,
“Put me down!”
Arms stretching down,
My rusty back squeaks,
“Where are those shins?”
2. Zephyr
Through an open tooth he lisps,
“Grampa Harry, listen to my poem:
‘I go up, up, up.
I go down, down, down.
Twirling up, twirling down.
The end.’”
His hair is a nest of reddish curls,
His bright hazel eyes seek mine.
“That’s wonderful!” I beam,
“I like the twirling, twirling.
Yes, it is up and down.”
3. Memories
Down in the marsh between river and sea
I recognize the brown and yellow leaf
Floating above, jarred now and again
By spotted fish seeking a morsel.
I am no longer clear, aged a tannic brown.
Up in my stream home eons ago
I asked about the yellow shells floating by,
Watched for hours on end
Wiggling tadpoles turn into tiny frogs.
Fresh from the spring, I was clear as light.
Between, in the rapids I twirled up as spray,
Twirled down a hidden chute to smash
Into turbines almost too heavy to move,
Developed muscles strong enough to carry
The gray steel barges from mill to city.
Now I am allowed for a short while
To rest still in these marshes
And think about the ocean that will swallow me.
Will I remember the tadpoles, the yellow leaf,
The twirling up and twirling down?