Excerpts from book

Sorry to anyone who actually has missed my writing a blog for the last several months; well, I have missed doing it anyway. Life has been so busy, but I have blogs stored inside my brain waiting for the next opportunity to put them into words. In the meantime, here are a few very scant excerpts from my book which will hopefully create some curiosity, perhaps enough to see a few more books leave the shelves of Quail Ridge Books in Raleigh, Park Road Books in Charlotte, Lulu.com, Amazon, iBooks, Barnesandnoble.com. For those who would like an audio copy of “Changing Places,”  please message me on Facebook or post your name on the blog so I can get in touch with you.

At school we lived in dormitories like boarding schools. These are just a few little anecdotes from teenage life in Cooke Cottage, which today would be categorized as middle school housing . These can be found in the pages of my book “Changing Places”.

Then there was the evening that Carolyn, Sherry, Laverne and I decided to have a potato chip race. We all bought a 25 cent bag of chips. In the 1950s a bag of chips for a quarter was probably as big as a giant bag of chips are today. We were each going to eat an entire bag of chips and if anyone got sick we would all three call them a chicken for the entire weekend. I was certain I could eat the entire bag and then some, and proceeded to do just that. It was just before supper and Carolyn was in the bathroom throwing up. I ran into the bathroom, danced around and made chicken noises as she threw up.     

“Myra, stop it,” Sherry said. “We really can’t make fun of her when she really is sick.” 

I stopped making the chicken noises, but somewhere in my mind I felt gratified that even Carolyn could throw up just like everybody else.  

…

I was running after a man who had stolen my eye, and I was carrying his arm in my hands. We had traded my eye for his arm. I was shouting to him that he had taken the wrong eye and now I could not see. As I chased him I ran into an iron bench which immediately caused me to scream.

…

One Sunday in December Miss Davis had taken me to hear “The Messiah” at Duke University Chapel. When I came back Ms. Eubanks and several girls were listening to the top ten tunes in Ms. Eubanks’ room. Now Ms. Eubanks began to sing in a shrill high falsetto voice, imitating opera and doing a little pirouette around the room. 

“Did you like that highbrow stuff?” She asked.

“I didn’t think I would,” I answered, “but the truth is it was the most beautiful thing I have ever heard.” 

“My goodness, you are finally growing up,” she said as she squeezed my shoulder and kissed the top of my head.   

…

Two blind mice; two blind mice;

No ButterFingers, NO ButterFingers!

We can’t get to the Knickel Knack Store,

But if we could  unlock the door

We wouldn’t have to starve anymore,

ButterFingers, ButterFingers!

…

I saw the car, big and gray and fast! At first I screamed because I wanted the car to stop and because I knew it wouldn’t, and then I screamed because I was high in the air, higher than the car, heading down to the pavement. Janice was on my other side, but she didn’t scream, and she couldn’t even see what was happening.

Evidently I screamed loud enough to disrupt the church service and lots of onlookers came out to see the two little blind girls lying in the street as the ambulance pulled up.