"Sally's Birthday Present," the Conclusion

"Oh Mother Mother come here!"

Mrs. Peterson came holding up her skirt in case of instant danger.

"Oh Sally child are you hurt?"

"No mam.  Look!"  Sally pointed down to the little kittens.

Sally saw her mothers eyes turn from worried to a gentle look.

"Oh," cried Sally.  "This is the most wonderfulest birthday day ever!"

The End
By Ann Edwards
Age 9
Address 521 East 4380 North
Provo, Utah

"Sally's Birthday Present," Part 5

So we last left Polly slicing away and Sally trying to be grateful for a candle on a piece of cornbread. Can you predict what happens next?

After breakfast was over Sally went outside to play.  She went to the loft and what do you think she saw!  Patches with four rolly polly kittens at her side.  Patches looked up at Sally and her wise old eyes seemed to be saying, "You knew I wouldn't turn you down."

TO BE CONTINUED

Meanwhile I think it's fair enough to say that one of the morals of this story is that a cat named Patches will never turn you down.

"Sally's Birthday Present," Part 4

You'll recall that we left Sally and her family at the dinner table, preparing to eat their supper of . . .

corn bread and molasses along with grits.  [EDITOR'S NOTE:  Outstanding guesswork, Sarah Plummer!]  When night came Sally had became unhappy again.  

"Oh gosh" she said "I dread for tomorrow to come."  Then she fell to sleep.  In the morning Sally awoke early.  She slipped her faded blue dress on and buttoned it.  She tied her crinkly white apron.  She went to find her mother stirring the mush and her elder sister Polly slicing.

When Sally came in she said, "Good Morning."

"Happy birthday dear" replied her mother.

"Oh Sally heres a little present from Polly and I."  Mother held out a good size piece of cornbread covered with molasses for frosting.  A little candle was put on top.

"Oh thank you Mother and Polly.  It's--it's wonderful."

"It was the best we could do" replied Polly.

TO BE CONTINUED.

Observations.

Polly?!  Where has Polly been hiding during the rest of this story?  And what exactly was she busy slicing? I don't know about you but I think Polly is a completely unsatisfactory big sister.

But I'm glad Sally got a candle at least.  That's something.  Let's hope Mother doesn't go all Marmee March on Sally and make her share it with the poor people next door.

"Sally's Birthday Present," Part 3

And now here comes the moment you've all been waiting for--the identity of the person (or animal) who promises to give Sally a penny for her thoughts!

Startled she turned to find her brother Billy.

"Oh hi" Sally said.

"Race you Sally."

"O.K. dibs on Starlight"Bi Sally cried.

"I Get Billy Boy."

They mounted and rode off.  Billy was winning by a neck.  Then Sally came creeping up.  At Last they were through.  Both had tied.

Billy and Sally talked and played until they heard a faint ringing of the dinner bell.

"Come on Slowpoke" cried Billy while mounting Billy Boy.  Sally mounted Starlight and soon caught up.

"Hi Mama and Papa" said Billy and Sally at the same time.

The family sat down and ate their small supper of . . . 

TO BE CONTINUED.

I'm going to let you guess what their small (remember, they're poor) supper consists of.  Meanwhile, here are a few stray observations.

1.  I like that Billy has named his horse after himself.
2.  I like that Billy and Sally "cry" instead of "say" anything.
3.  Apparently I was fond of all forms of the verb "to creep" when I was nine years old.

"Sally's Birthday Present," Part 2

Yesterday we left our heroine lamenting the fact that coming west wasn't worth it.  We pick up the story from there.

Ever since Sally could remember she had had present and parties.  Sally got the water and gave it to her mother.  She went to the barn and played with Patches the family cat.  Sally always loved Patches and told Patches all of her troubles.  This time she cried and said "Oh!  I don't think I will get anything."  Sally wept in Patches long hair.

"A penny for your thoughts."

TO BE CONTINUED.

Feel free to ask yourself if this is Patches the family cat talking?  Or is someone else there in the barn with Sally?

Feel free to also ask yourself if people "way back in the years of 1848" used phrases like "a penny for your thoughts."

A Story is Born: the Early Years!

I've been helping TRQ go through old boxes, and we found one with a bunch of my old stuff.  I even found a story written "by Ann Edwards, age 9."

I will publish in installments over the next few days.  It's called "Sally's Birthday Present," and I have preserved it in its original form except for the paragraphing part.

Way back in the years of 1848 there was a pioneer girl named Sally Peterson.  

"Tomorrow is my birthday!  Tomorrow is my birthday!"  Sally cried jumping up and down with delight.  

Mrs. Peterson looked out of the small cabin at her daughter.  Mrs. Peterson sighed knowing that Sally wasn't going to get anything for her birthday, for these were hard times.  

"Sally," said Sally's mother in a trembling voice.  "Come here.  I've got to talk to you.  You know how hard your Father works to get the few things we have.  We're scraping the bottom of our corn barrel all ready.  The corn and wheat has been flooded. [editor's note--I can't read my handwriting here, but it's probably something really touching.] We just won't be able to afford any presents or cake with icing.  Do you understand Honey?"

"Yes Mommy."

"Oh Sally by the way would you go get some water?"

"Yes mam."

Sally walked out of the door with the hedges creeping.  [I think I meant to say "hinges creaking" but who knows what descriptive details linger in the minds of fourth-grade creative writers?]  When the door banged, Sally felt a hollow feeling creep over her.  With salty tears rolling down her cheek she said, "Oh dear!  I just don't think coming west was worth it!"

TO BE CONTINUED!

(Favorite detail:  Sally's family is already scraping the bottom of the corn barrel.)
(Favorite sentence:  "Oh dear!  I just don't think coming west was worth it!_

Yesterday in Provo

Yesterday was bittersweet.

I went to the graveside service for my friend Becky's mother, Sheila, who died last week--thirty years after the debilitating stroke that changed her life.  She was buried in East Lawn Memorial Hills--overlooking the neighborhood where Becky and I first met as ten year-olds.

My friends and I used to go sledding in the winter, not far from the spot where Sheila is buried beneath a grove of scrub oak.  And while I was there, surrounded by people from my past, girlhood Anns swirled up to greet me.  

The Ann who spent a year in bed in the red brick house next to the red brick church.  

The Ann who climbed the foothills covered with summer-burnt grasses.  

The Ann who rode her bike from Sears down 4380 North as fast as wind.  

The Ann who greeted her grandparents with a shout whenever they pulled up the driveway in their VW bus.

The Ann who used to pretend (along with neighbors Wendy and Diana) that she was an orphan pursued by an evil aunt named Georgia.

All those Anns were present yesterday as Sheila's friends and family members stood together and told her goodbye.