Author: Peg Kehret

I often get thank you letters.  Sometimes the letter-writer thanks me for writing a specific story; sometimes it’s a more general “thank you for writing good books.” Children often thank me for volunteering to help animals.

My good friend, Larry Karp, who writes terrific adult mysteries, always e-mails the day after he and his wife have been to my house for dinner, to say thanks for the meal and the conversation. Another friend never fails to send a hand-written note of thanks for her birthday gift, even though I always give it to her, and get thanked, in person.

My grandkids always thank me for attending their sporting events or concerts.  Lucy thanks me by wagging her tail and dispensing doggie kisses. The cats show their gratitude with loud purrs.

Of course I would write stories even if no readers wrote to say thank you. I would host dinners for my friends and remember their birthdays whether they contacted me the next day or not. I enjoy seeing my grandkids perform and I’m always glad when they invite me to watch.  Still, everyone likes to feel appreciated and a simple “thank you” costs nothing.

Many, many readers have brightened my life over the years with their words of thanks.  Now it’s my turn:

Thank you for reading my books. Thank you for telling me when you like them, and for recommending them to your friends. Thank you for caring about the animals, and each other. Thank you for being the best fans ever!

I went to Hershey, Pennsylvania, this week to receive the Keystone State Reading Association’s Young Adult Book Award for The Ghost’s Grave. It is always rewarding to spend time with a group of reading teachers and librarians because they are my partners in the cause of literacy. I write the books; they put them in the hands of kids who read them. It was a lovely award luncheon and I now have friends in Pennsylvania.

My son-in-law and grandson, Kevin and Eric, went with me. While I was at the KSRA conference, they spent the day in Gettysburg. They are both students of military history, and were thrilled to stand at the spot where Lincoln gave his Gettysburg address.

The next day the three of us visited Hershey Chocolate World (yum!) and took a tour to learn the history of Mr. Hershey. He was a remarkable man who had persistence, business acumen, and compassion. We also visited the Civil War Museum in Harrisburg.

The only travel glitch was in Cincinnati. When we changed planes to fly to Harrisburg, PA, my bag was left uncovered in the rain. It sat there long enough for the rain to soak completely through the bag itself and into the contents. My clothes were all wet, including what I planned to wear at the award luncheon. My nightgown was so soaked I couldn’t wear it. Posters that I had taken to give away were wet, but I spread them around my room and they dried overnight. Luckily, the “Visit With Peg Kehret” DVDs that I took as gifts were in plastic covers.

I arrived home to piles of mail, a packed Inbox of e-mail, phone messages, and excited animals. Lucy has been a “Velcro dog” since my return, Molly claims my lap at every opportunity, Edgar (my foster cat) yowls for attention, and even Mr. Stray looked in the window to welcome me home.

This was my last out-of-state trip for awhile. I like to meet new people and to see and learn about new places. Awards that kids vote on are dear to my heart and I feel honored to hang the beautiful KSRA plaque on my wall. Still, I agree with Dorothy: there’s no place like home.

For three days last week I was at the Plum Creek Children’s Literacy Festival in Seward, Nebraska. The festival is held each year on the campus of Concordia University, and this year more than 7,000 people attended.

 I gave three talks to children on Thursday, three talks to children on Friday, and three talks to teachers and media specialists on Saturday. Whew!  I also attended a dinner/auction for the festival’s sponsors, where I talked briefly about myself.  I enjoyed hearing Richard Peck speak at the Sat. luncheon.   The other festival presenters were Andrew Clements, Robin Brickman, Ted and Betsy Lewin and Laura Numeroff.  It’s always fun to get to know my fellow authors. 

I don’t know how many books I signed, but there were stacks and stacks of them when I arrived and none left at the end of the last session. The folks at Concordia were warm and welcoming. On Wed. night we were introducing ourselves and shaking hands. By Sat. we were good friends, hugging goodby.

I stayed in a guest house on campus which was well stocked with goodies, including coffee and chocolates, which I consider essential food groups. 

 There were many highlights. I met a woman who, as a high school student, had acted in a play that I wrote.  I met a mother and daughter who had been e-mailing me for a long time and who drove from Iowa to hear me talk. I heard wonderful reports from librarians who are using my books to encourage reluctant readers.

I loved making new friends, and talking with teachers and librarians, but the best part of the conference was the children who were excited about books. They are the ones I write for and it was extremely satisfying to hear their questions about my work and to bask in their enthusiasm. 

Today is recycle day in my neighborhood. I have a large, wheeled bin where I put newspaper, plastic, aluminum cans, mixed paper, and cardboard. Every two weeks I roll it out to the street and an amazing truck automatically lifts the bin and empties it. 

On the night before recycle day, I do my litter walk. I take Lucy along and we walk about a mile, picking up trash that’s been discarded on the side of the street. Last night I filled a large bag, mostly with beer cans plus one beer bottle, one Pepsi can, an empty cigarette package, and a few candy wrappers.

Last year a class of students in Darien, Connecticut, who had read Small Steps, sent me a wonderful gift. It’s a “picker-upper,” one of those long handled devices with tong-like grips on the end, intended for reaching items on high shelves. The one the kids sent me is a gold color and it’s called a Golden Retriever. It’s a perfect name for a dog lover and I use it on my litter walks to retrieve cans that are thrown into the ditch, where it’s hard for me to reach them.

For many years before my area had curb-side recycling, I sorted the cans, paper, aluminum, etc. and took them to a recycling center. I still do that with glass, which isn’t allowed in my bin.  All of my friends recycle, too. It’s a way of life for those who want to conserve the Earth’s resources and I’m dismayed when I attend an event where no effort is made to separate recyclable items from the rest of the trash.

My semi-weekly litter walk is a small thing.  On the other hand, if everyone spent an hour every other week picking up litter in their neighborhood, our streets would look better, and if the cans and papers all got recycled, there would be a whole lot less trash in our land fills. 

Yesterday I received a chain saw sculpture that I had commissioned.  Mark Herrington is a local chain saw artist whose work I admire. I had asked him if he made custom orders and told him what I wanted: a big bear reading a book to a small bear, and when Mark said he would carve that for me, I could hardly wait.

Since I live in a log home in the woods, this kind of outdoor art work is perfect for my setting.  Both bears are seated on stumps, with the small one looking up eagerly, as if hanging on every word of the story.  The big bear holds a book, titled Spy Cat.

I will enjoy this sculpture every day, and I know my visitors will smile when they see it. I’m pleased that I was able to support a local artist by purchasing his work.  It is not easy to make a living in any artistic field and I try to encourage my fellow creators.  Both bathroom sinks in my home were hand-painted by a local artist.  My front door was carved by hand with a scene of deer and fir trees. A stained glass carrot hangs in one window; the local birds eat from my hand-crafted bird feeder.

Because I appreciate the creativity and work that went in to each of these pieces, I treasure them far more than I would a factory-made door or a Made in China bird feeder.  Yes, my door cost more than if I’d gone to Home Depot and chosen one from the stack. It is also more substantial, far more beautiful, and it gives me pleasure every time I open it. 

I also have several paintings – one of which is the original cover art for Searching For Candlestick Park.

I’ve had two recent free speech issues to consider. The first involved the Cat Writers’ Association (CWA), which I belong to on Pete’s behalf.  They are having a conference in Nov. and the banquet speaker was to have been the President of the Humane Society of the United States.  TRAPPED is entered in the Children’s Book category of the Cat Writers’ competition, and I had planned to attend the workshops and the awards banquet. I had looked forward to the conference, and to hearing this speaker.

CWA came under pressure not to have this speaker, even though he had been invited months ago and was already announced as the banquet speaker, because his organization was in favor of some pending spay/neuter legislation in California, where the conference will be held.  This seemed to me like censorship, and I felt strongly that it would be wrong to remove this speaker from the conference program.

The CWA board disagreed, and voted to uninvite him.  I have changed my plans, and will not be attending the Cat Writers’ conference.

The other issue involves Amazon.com’s sale of magazines and books that promote dog fighting and cock fighting, both of which are cruel to the animals involved and are also illegal in most states. Many animal welfare groups are urging their members not to buy from Amazon as long as they sell materials which instruct people how to harm living creatures. Amazon says this is censorship.

So where do I draw the line? While I believe people should be allowed to read whatever they want, I also believe it is wrong to promote cruelty. In this case, I am choosing not to purchase anything from Amazon as long as they continue to encourage dog and cock fighting by selling these publications. 

I realize that I could be harming my own career by speaking out against the decisions of an organization, CWA, and a business, Amazon, with which I would like to maintain good relationships. However, I think it’s important to speak up for what I believe is right.

The kids who read my books often wonder what they can do to help animals or to correct an injustice.  One thing that you can do at any age is to speak out. Write a letter to the editor of your newspaper or put your views on your on-line journal. Talk to your friends. Point out an injustice and explain why you think it is wrong.  Words have power to instigate change. 

I still have Edgar, my foster cat.  In the two months since he arrived, he has gone from hiding to being a lap cat, who rushes to greet me. 

When Pasado’s Safe Haven, the group that rescued him,  put his photo on their web site, I had high hopes that someone would adopt him.

That has not yet happened but something unexpected did:  Three people who read that story came forward and offered to be foster parents for other rescued cats.  So three of the cats who were rescued with Edgar are now also being given individual attention and socialization. 

I did not know when I volunteered to foster a cat that this doesn’t happen often. Most people who foster animals take dogs.  Even though Edgar is still waiting for his permanent home, I feel I’ve helped him and, indirectly, helped other cats.

Edgar’s room used to be my husband’s piano workshop. It was filled with antique instruments and interesting projects.  Carl built wonderful bird houses, and did some amazing wood carving projects.  After Carl died, and the space was cleared of the instruments on which he had been working, that room seemed too empty.  I wanted to use it in a good way, a way that brought life and laughter back to the space. 

Fostering Edgar has done that.  What could be more lively that a big black cat wildly chasing a yellow feather on the end of a stick?  The room has windows for bird-watching and a high counter where Edgar’s food is safe from Lucy, my dog, when she visits him.  When I stand at Carl’s workbench, brushing Edgar and hearing him purr, I know that I’ve used this space wisely. There is life and love and laughter there once more.

One of the most exciting events of my career was the inclusion of six quotes from Small Steps: The Year I Got Polio in an exhibit at the Smithsonian’s Museum of American History in Washington, D.C.  The exhibit, titled “Whatever Happened To Polio?” was fantastic.

My daughter and son-in-law gave me a trip to Washington in April, 2006, to see it.  They went with me, as did their two children. The exhibit’s curator gave us a private tour. It was overwhelming to see my words on the walls of such a prestigious museum. When you write books for kids, you don’t expect your words to end up on the walls of the Smithsonian.

Originally the exhibit was supposed to be displayed for a year but it proved to be so popular that it was extended. When it finally closed, I felt a sense of loss. Even though I knew I would not be returning to Washington, D.C., to see it again I had liked knowing that it was there. I enjoyed hearing from readers who had seen it and recognized the sections from Small Steps.

Today I had some wonderful news. With the help of Rotary, International, the “Whatever Happened to Polio?” exhibit will be reopened in Warm Springs, Georgia, on permanent loan from the Smithsonian. The grand opening is scheduled for August 11.  I will be in Elmhurst, Illinois, that day giving a library talk so I’m not able to attend, but I am pleased that this wonderful compilation of an important part of our country’s history will continue to be available for public viewing, and I am thrilled to have had a small part in its creation.

I have a large spiral notebook that serves as a book journal.  It’s actually a list. Every time I read a book, I write down the title and author.  I keep track by month, so that I can see how many books I read each month.

I began doing this in June, 1990, and this record of my reading has come in handy many times. Sometimes I’ll want to recommend a book but I can’t remember the exact title or perhaps I don’t recall the author. It takes only seconds to scan my journal and find the information.

When I especially love a book, it gets a star. I’m stingy with my stars, usually giving only five or six each year. If a book truly disappoints me or if I don’t want to finish it, that book gets a minus.  Happily, there are more stars than minuses in my journal.

 My Aunt Mary, who lives in California, also keeps a book journal, and whenever we see each other we bring our journals and discuss what we’ve read since the last time we were together.  Both of us always end up with a list of books we want to read.

I wish I had begun keeping my book list years earlier. Then I’d be like the bird watchers who keep their “life list” of all the kinds of birds they’ve ever seen. I’m glad I started when I did, though. I now have a record of every book I’ve read for the last seventeen years.

I received a wonderful card in the mail yesterday. It has a black cat on the front, and a saying about how everyone needs a dog to love her and a cat to ignore her.

Inside, which was originally blank, someone had written, “Thank you for being my foster mom.”  It was signed “Edgar.”  (Yes, I still have my foster cat.)

It happened that yesterday was my wedding anniversary. It was the fourth anniversary I’ve had  since my husband died, so it was a day of remembering, and of being sad that he isn’t here to celebrate with me.

Receiving such a fun card in the mail cheered me enormously. And, since I didn’t recognize the hand writing,  I had a mystery to solve. Who had sent the card? 

First I asked Marilyn, who said she wished she had been thoughtful enough to send it but it wasn’t from her. Next I asked Mark, who has been known to send me anonymous packages containing things like chocolate carrots. He swore it wasn’t from him.

 My third guess proved right: Jenny and Jerry. Jerry’s been in the hospital for two months and I’ve been sending him a card each week so they decided to send me one. They did not know when my anniversary was and had no idea their card would arrive on that day. What a happy coincidence.  We never know when a small gesture of friendship will have a positive impact far beyond what we anticipate.

The same is true of words.  I was sad to read in my morning paper of the death of opera star Beverly Sills.  Years ago,  when I read her autobiography, one sentence jumped out at me: “There are no shortcuts to any place worth going.”

This seemed a perfect motto for a writer and I have used it as a favorite quote many times.  I never met Beverly Sills, but her words – that one sentence – gave me motivation and determination many times.

 I hope that something I write will help someone else to keep trying, and to strive to be the best that they can be.