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Martha Parker
Living now in sunny Southern Florida, MM Parker was born in East Orange, New Jersey. She was number five, the dreaded middle child of eight fun but mischievous, children, who, along with Mom and Da...visualizza altroLiving now in sunny Southern Florida, MM Parker was born in East Orange, New Jersey. She was number five, the dreaded middle child of eight fun but mischievous, children, who, along with Mom and Dad, lived in Bloomfield and East Orange, New Jersey. Dad was, among other side positions, was a bus driver who loved reading the newspapers, doing crossword puzzles and reading about the ponies. Mom was the proverbial homemaker who oversaw the daily functions and needs of home, children … and Dad.
“Mom and Dad were softies in many ways, and you could usually wrap Mom around your pinky – Dad on the other hand, he’d wrap you around a pole and leave you out to freeze or sweat away … which ever was the weather of the season! He’d make sure to get his point across! They both demanded respect and obedience, and got it! Respect they got all the way all the time … obedience on the other hand, well hey, we were kids and kids get into trouble … but only occasionally, sometimes, now and then!”
“Dad loved Mom, and many times would pen little ‘love notes’ and poems and ‘I love you’s’ for Mom, which he artfully hid in obvious but odd places throughout the house for her to find! Mom loved Dad too, but she adored her reading … mostly romances, Perry Mason and other mystery novels that she’d acquire from either Reader’s Digest or some kind of Book of the Month Club offering. Sometimes she’d read stories from a few Romance Magazines as a change of pace. She also liked to draw and liked to write poetry. I have my suspicions that Mom might have penned a few short stories of her own, and I did look, but never found any.”
“My real love for reading and writing began at a very early age. Kindergarten, I think.”, admits the novice author. “By the time I was able to fully read and comprehend all the “Dick and Jane” books, I was off and running in telling, and then later writing, my own tales. I was hopelessly and happily forever in love with and busily penning … my own stories. I wrote about anything and everything, as long as I was writing something. And, although I always did, and still do, tend to be a little bit more finicky and picky when it comes to choosing what I will read, I read a lot more today than I think I’ve ever read before. And if something doesn’t ‘catch my attention’, doesn’t ‘grab me’ within the first chapter or two, I rarely finish reading it.”
“Sadly though, all of my own earlier writings are now lost. Long and forever gone, and that’s too bad because they were really good. I remember one story in particular; it was a story I had written for an end of the year assignment given to us by our 6th grade teacher – Mrs. O’Connell. And that my dear friends, is a story meant for another time and place. Suffice it to say though, that it was percisely because of that assignment, and Mrs O’Connell, the one person who had loved what I had written, and who had encouraged me to continue on with it, she, and whom I believed, was the singular most encouraging person and driving force that eventually led, no, propelled me into writing, and thus today, I have been turned into the crazy writer that exists today! Thank You Mrs. O’Connell … wherever you are! For I do so love to write, and oh, do I ever write an awful lot!visualizza meno