Peg Kehret Blog

The juncos are building a nest in a bird house on my front porch. It’s a log cabin bird house that my husband, Carl, built many years ago. I put it on the end of the porch railing, in the corner by the garage wall, as a decoration. This is the first time it’s been occupied.

I enjoy watching the little juncos as they go about their business. One day I saw one of them standing on the carpet square where Mr. Stray sits to eat and drink. The bird was pecking at the carpet, and at first I thought he was eating bits of dried cat food that Mr. Stray had spilled. Then I realized the junco was tearing out tiny tufts of carpet fiber, and using them to build a nest.

I wanted to help with this effort so I brushed Lucy and Molly, and put their fur out on the porch. The juncos immediately took it for nesting material. A  friend told me she puts dryer lint out for the birds each spring, but I have more pet fur than dryer lint so I’ve brushed the animals each day since, and every time the juncos seem glad to have this contribution.

They are a busy bunch, including the one I call Yo-Yo Bird. There are rhododendron bushes in front of the porch and this junco flies from a rhododendron branch to the top of a garage window, a distance of about five feet, and then back down. He does it over and over and over. Sometimes he collides with the window, though never hard enough to stun himself. I have no idea why he does this; I wonder if he knows. While the other juncos busy themselves collecting materials and constructing a nest, this one bird simply goes up and down, up and down, like a yo-yo. He has been doing it for six days now.

As I watch him, I think he’s a lot like a few people I know who are endlessly busy but never accomplish anything. They fill their days with trivial chores that they deem necessary but which have no effect on their quality of life or anyone else’s. They rush here and there, and complain that they have no time, yet nothing substantial results from all their busyness.

Time is a precious commodity. The older I get, the more I cherish each day, and the more I hope to use my time wisely. Although I am fascinated by him, I don’t want to be a yo-yo bird.

I love to read. When asked what I do in my spare time, my answer always begins with, “I read a lot.”

For many years, I’ve kept a book journal. It’s a simple spiral notebook where I list the title and author of every book I read. I began the journal in June, 1990, because my friend, Mary, and I, who see each other only once a year, are both avid readers. We like to discuss what we’ve read, but we can’t always remember every title. We decided to start book lists and bring them to our yearly reunion. We’ve both done this ever since. I also note the months as well as the year when I read each book. I wish I had started my book journal earlier. It would be fun to look back and see what I was reading at various times in my life.

Once I began listing the books, I developed an urge to note those I especially liked, so they get a star next to the title. Doing this reminds me of the piano teacher I had when I was little, who pasted a gold star on my music if I played it without mistakes. I am stingy with my stars and give them only to books that I really loved.

Since those of you who pay attention to this blog are also readers, I thought you might be interested in knowing some of the books I’ve starred. I am listing only books for adults. I read a lot of books for kids, too, but I know many of the authors personally. It’s harder to be objective when reading a book by a friend.

 Here, then, are a few books for adults that I especially liked:

Jim, the Boy  by Tony Earley

Ahab’s Wife by Sena Jeter Naslund

The Good, Good Pig  by Sy Montgomery

Loving Letters from Ogden Nash: A Family Album  by Linell Nash Smith

The Habit of Being  by Flannery O’Connor

I am also a fan of Julia Spencer-Fleming and eagerly await the next book in her series.

I could have titled this entry, “Still More Good News” because, yes, The Ghost’s Grave  has won another state young reader award! This time it’s the South Dakota Prairie Pasque Award. Here’s the list of state winners, so far: New Hampshire, Pennsylvania, Washington, Tennessee, and So. Dakota. It is also nominated in a couple of states that have not yet voted.

This is the third consecutive year that I’ve won the South Dakota award. I’ve won three times in other states, but never consecutively, so this is a different kind of first for me.

Here is how I got the idea for The Ghost’s Grave:  About a mile from my house there is an old cemetery, and the whole last row of gravestones has the same date of death. The people buried there were all coal miners who were killed in a mine explosion. The first time I visited this cemetery, I got curious about mining accidents, so I began to do research on coal mining in my area.

I also did some research on the cemetery itself, and I discovered that one miner lost a leg in an explosion. His leg is buried in this cemetery but he lived out his life elsewhere, and when he died, he was buried in a different location.

I had been wanting to write a ghost story, and once I read about the leg, I knew how I wanted to create my ghost. Willie is an old coal miner who tries to convince Josh, my character, to dig up Willie’s leg and rebury it with the rest of him.

Like most of my books, The Ghost’s Grave  used many incidents from my own life. The tree house that I describe in the book is an actual tree house that’s in my woods. My husband built it for our grandchildren.

The stray cat in the book is also based on my own experience of finding a mother cat and her kittens in the woods, and taming them. 

I even had a neighbor once who actually shot a bat in his kitchen!

The Ghost’s Grave has won the Volunteer State Book Award in Tennessee.  This is my first time to win in Tennessee.  My son-in-law says I’m going to have to get a counter-balance for my awards necklace to keep myself from falling face forward.  What a great problem to have.

No matter how many times I learn that one of my books was chosen as their favorite by the students in a particular state, it is always a thrill.

 Thank you, Tennessee!

The Ghost’s Grave has won the 2008 Sasquatch Award, given by the Washington Library Media Association. It is exciting to win a children’s choice honor anywhere, but especially so in my home state.

 I also like the fact that I won’t have to board an airplane in order to attend the conference and accept this award in person.

I am thrilled. Lucy’s tail is wagging. Pete, Molly and Mr. Stray are purring.  Hooray!

About a year ago, I put the announcement on my Web page: “Peg has retired from doing school visits.” My hope was to have fewer requests so that I didn’t have to say no so often. It’s difficult to decline invitations that I would enjoy accepting.

I do get fewer requests now, but I also get a lot of inquiries that begin, “I know you don’t do school visits any longer, but….” followed by the reason why that particular school should be the exception to the rule. Kids often point out that I would not have to talk to the whole school - I could come only to their classroom.

I quit doing school talks because of my problems with post-polio syndrome. When I get too tired, it strains my already weak muscles and causes further damage. Muscles weakened by polio are not like normal muscles. For most people, the way to increase muscle strength is to exercise, to use those muscles more. It’s the opposite for me. The more I tire my muscles, the more strength they lose, permanently. I recently had a thorough evaluation at a post-polio clinic. The main advice the doctors gave me is that I MUST cut back on my activities if I hope to continue to walk.

I will continue to accept awards in person, when possible, and to speak at major conferences. My last school visit will be in May, in conjunction with a fund raiser for the Humane Society (Pete the Cat’s alma mater.) It’s a good school to end with because the librarian invited me to my first young author day, many years ago. We have come full circle.

Most people my age, even those with excellent health, have already retired. Physically, I should retire but mentally, emotionally, I am not ready.  Saying no to school visits is not true retirement for me. I never set out to have a career as a public speaker; my job is writing.

Writing is not a typical profession; it is a way of life. I spent many years laboring unheralded, years when I would have been thrilled to be asked to speak anywhere. Now, when my books are popular and my presence in demand, why would I want to quit?

Writing a book is challenging and exhilarating. I enjoy the process as well as the results.  I have retired from doing school visits, but I am not retiring as a writer.  

I did something extremely difficult today. I cancelled my trip to Missouri to receive the Mark Twain Award.  Words are inadequate to express how disappointed I am to miss the conference of the Missouri Association of School Librarians. It would have been my second Mark Twain Award banquet, and I cherish my memories of the first one.

The reason I am not flying to Missouri is that I’ve had a relapse of the pneumonia that I had last month. This time I recognized the symptoms and went to the doctor right away. Recurring pneumonia is a serious medical condition for anyone but my history of bulbar polio makes it even more dangerous for me.

My doctor usually states my options, and then lets me make up my own mind. This time he flat out said, “Cancel the trip.” I know he is right. Flying is difficut for me under the best conditions. Leg braces + a cane + limited stamina do not add up to a person who can rush through airports or tolerate delays easily.

 My acceptance speech is written, my two workshops are planned, my pet-sitter is booked,  I have a plane ticket and a reservation where I park my car. I even lost three pounds so I’d look better in my good black pants - but, alas, I’m not going.

I know the wonderful people in Missouri who have put so much time and effort into preparing for this conference are disappointed, too, and I hate letting them down after I had promised months ago to come. 

Twice before in my many years of speaking, I’ve had to cancel. Once I was scheduled to be the luncheon speaker at a conference in Oklahoma when my mother was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Surgery was scheduled for the day of the conference. I stayed home, over my mother’s protests. I was with her when she died the next day.

The other time I was on my way to the Plum Creek Children’s Literature Festival in Seward, Nebraska. This is an exciting three-day affair where I was scheduled for numerous school visits, autograph sessions, and other events. Carl and I were already in Nebraska when we got word that our ten-year-old grandson (now 15) had a brain tumor and was being taken to Children’s Hospital in Seattle. We turned the RV around and headed home.

The people in Oklahoma, Nebraska and Missouri  all reacted with compassion and understanding. Nobody whined or said, “How can you do this to us at the last minute?” Instead, they sent me their love and good wishes. Without exception, I was told that I had made the right choice.

I won’t be accepting the bust of Mark Twain in person, but I still have the thrill of winning it. The clever, discerning, literate and wise children of Missouri chose Abduction! as their favorite book this year.  What an honor! How exciting! No matter whether I’m on a podium, wearing those black pants, or at home in my fuzzy green bathrobe, Mark Twain Award day is a special event.  Thank you, Missouri. 

A retired gentleman called me recently. He had been given my number by mutual friends because he had written a book for children and needed advice on how to market it. During our conversation, I suggested that he join the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators. I started to give him the SCBWI web site but he said, “Oh, I don’t have a computer, and I don’t intend to get one.” My reaction was regret because he will have a tough time making it as a writer if he is unwilling to use the tools of our profession.

He is not alone. I was stunned to read that only twenty percent of senior citizens know how to use the Internet. I can not imagine being without such a useful resource. I do much research that way, and I do nearly all of my business correspondence via e-mail. All of my volunteer activities with Pasado’s Safe Haven are coordinated by e-mail and I enjoy e-mail correspondence with family and friends. Even when icy roads keep me homebound, I’m connected to others with the click of a mouse.

I order books and DVDs from my library on-line and get notified by e-mail when the items are ready for me to pick them up. Some of my best gifts for my family were bought on line and even when I plan to make a purchase in person, I often comparison shop at home first.

The twenty percent study and the unpublished author made me wonder why some people cling to the old ways even when new ways would make their lives better. Why are some folks willing to learn fresh skills and stay open to new ideas when others are not? Closed minds lead to closed doors - doors that could have led to knowledge and entertainment.

When I was writing The Stranger Next Door, I wondered if it is possible to do CPR on a cat. In my pre-computer days, this question would have meant calling my veterinarian’s office and then waiting for an after-hours return call. It might have been a couple of days before I had the information that I needed in order to write the scene. Now I simply Googled “cat CPR” and in seconds I had explicit instructions, direct from a veterinary college. I finished writing the scene on the spot.

A few weeks ago I had a request from Kids Care Club for an interview about Shelter Dogs: Amazing Stories of Adopted Strays. Years ago, an interview meant arranging a time and place to meet with a reporter. Including travel time, the process usually took up at least half a day. The Kids Care interview was done by e-mail. They sent the questions one afternoon and I answered them early the next morning while I sipped my wake-up coffee. You can read the interview at www.familycares.org.

I am not a computer whiz. I get excited when I figure out how to change the clock on my monitor to adjust for Daylight Savings Time.  Even so, I say hooray for technology. It certainly makes the writing business easier.

I’ve had my cane, Alice, for more than ten years. She is sturdy and beautiful, with cat faces all over her. I named her Alice because I expected her to lead me into Wonderland, which she has done.

Alice has also had some adventures of her own. Late one rainy afternoon, I stopped at a grocery store on my way home from a book event. I use Alice while I walk into a store, then she rides in the cart while I do my shopping. On that particular day, I happened to park next to the spot where carts get returned. By the time I came out of the store, it was dark. I unloaded my groceries, and shoved the cart into the cart stall. Because my car was right there, I didn’t need Alice in order to walk across the parking lot - and I left her in the shopping cart!

As soon as I got home, I realized what I had done. My heart sank at the thought of possibly losing Alice. I called the store and explained my predicament. As soon as I described Alice, the clerk said, “Oh, yes. We have it. It’s behind the customer service counter.” (I wanted to correct the clerk and point out that Alice is a “her” and a “she,” not an “it” but I decided not to press my luck.)

I was too tired to drive back to town that night but first thing the next morning, I went to retrieve Alice. She was leaning against the wall in a corner, with a handsome dark blue cane that had apparently also been left behind. I was glad Alice had found a friend so that she wasn’t afraid to stay alone overnight in the store.

The first time I flew with Alice, I put her in the overhead bin. When the bin was opened at the end of the flight, Alice jumped out and tried to whack a passenger on the head. I grabbed her in the nick of time.

The next time we flew, I placed Alice on the floor under the seat in front of me. When the plane took off, gravity pulled her backward and she slid under the seats behind me. Nobody noticed. When I realized she was gone, I walked down the aisle, looking on the floor. I finally found her three rows back. The young man whose seat she was under didn’t know she was there, but he laughed when I told him Alice had run away, and he fished her out for me.

Now when I fly, Alice rides on the floor but I squeeze her tightly with both feet during takeoff and landing, to make sure she stays where she belongs.

Occasionally I give Alice a bath, rubbing her with a soapy cloth, then rinsing and drying her. She gets “new shoes” now and then, too, because the rubber tip on the cane bottom wears out.

Because of Alice, I feel more secure when I walk. I’m far less likely to fall when she is by my side. We’ve had many fine adventures together, and I anticipate many more.

One day last week when I stopped to pick up my mail, the postmistress came to greet me in great distress. It seems the people who had the post office box directly above mine had quit collecting their mail months ago. She had finally closed their account and cleaned out their box. When she did, she found a large envelope from Penguin, one of my publishers, addressed to me. It was postmarked April, 2007, and had been put in the wrong box by mistake. I opened the envelope and found fifteen letters from readers, all sent to me nearly a year ago. The postmistress felt terrible. “Those poor kids!” she moaned. “They waited and waited to hear back from you and it didn’t happen.” I told her it could have been worse - it could have been a royalty check.

I do try to answer all my mail but a few times in the past I’ve received a packet of letters from a publisher and the letters were postmarked six or seven months earlier. Who knows where they had been in the meantime. I have found that when I answer such mail, a high percentage of them are returned to me marked “No longer at this address.” So I will not be responding to these year-old notes, and I apologize, as does the Wilkeson postmistress. It’s all I can do to keep up with current mail without spending time on letters that have been long forgotten. The one exception is a girl who included a self-addressed, stamped envelope. She deserves a reply.

Several days ago, I opened a long string of emails and skimmed down them to see if any needed an immediate response. I had been in bed for two days with a fever and bronchial problems so I was behind on email, and everything else.  Yesterday when I logged on I cleaned up some of my files, permanently deleting many items. Later in the day I remembered that I’d had a request from a teacher to do a teleconference with her students. I can not find that request and have no idea who it was from. I’m certain I deleted it accidentally the night I was reading email in my fever-fog. I hope whoever it was reads this blog and tries again.

Over the years I’ve had many letters returned as undeliverable, because I could not read the student’s handwriting and I guessed wrong. I have no explanation for the emails that bounce when I “return to sender” on the very day they arrived.

I try to answer emails within a day after I receive them unless there’s some unusual circumstance, such as my being out of town. Regular mail takes longer. I try to empty that box once a week but I don’t always manage it. 

I like getting mail from readers, whether it’s on paper or electronic and, although it takes up more and more of my time, I’m happy to answer those letters. Phone calls are another matter. Naturally, I like phone calls from family and personal friends. I also like phone calls from my editor, my agent, and anyone letting me know I’ve won an award. But phone calls from readers make me cranky. Just this week, as I lay coughing in bed one evening, the phone rang. It was two giddy young girls, telling me that I’m their favorite author. This is happening more and more. I’ll probably have to get an unlisted phone number. 

A line at the end of “Driving Miss Daisy” says, “We just does our best, Miss Daisy. That’s all we can do.” That’s my philosophy with mail. I do my best.