This Book is Dedicated To…

It’s currently 6 a.m. and my entire household, excepting me and the dog, is out cold. The coffee pot is dripping away and there is a rarely found blanket of silence settled warmly over my living room. Silence leaves room for thoughts. This morning my thoughts are on book dedications.

When I read a dedication page of a book I am always slightly curious about what the person did to deserve such an honor. A book is filled with the hopes, dreams, sweat, and tears of the writer. The person an author chooses to dedicate to has already gained a little of my respect. So this leaves me considering, who will I dedicate my first book to? The answer is both easy and difficult at the same time. Easy because I know exactly who I want to have my dedication, difficult because she’s not here to see it.

My great-grandmother, Hazel Gaither, was a poet, writer, artist, and saint (well in my eyes anyway.) She shared so much wisdom with me as a child but mostly was THE example of kindness, creativity, and love. I want to be her for my kids, and one day their children and grandchildren, when I grow up. She created the family campfire story “Hairy Toe” that has lasted generations, wrote about her life, created poetry, and wrote journals daily that are as entertaining to read as any novel. She is the only person I’ve ever met that dismissed any inconvenience in life with the words: “poo-shaw” which was her Scarlett O’Hara equivalent to Fiddle-dee-dee.

So, in spite of her being gone, when finished, I will dedicate my work to her.

To my GeeGee, Hazel Margaret Watts-Gaither, who inspired me with her stories, and would have poo-shaw’d all my self-doubts when writing this book.

Flight to Freedom by Hazel Gaither (1918-2010)

A man once caught a mallard duck
And tied it to a stake,
With a length of reel-type fish cord
Beside a wooded lake.

Throughout the years in summertime
The duck seemed quite content
To swim the lake with feathered friends,
Within the line’s extent.

When winter came and other ducks
Winged through the sky, south-bound,
The cord would check the captive’s try
And bring him to the ground.

But then one day he tried again
And much to his surprise,
The tether broke, he joined his friends
In freedom of the skies.

And so it is with mortal man,
Content while life is sweet;
But then comes chilling winter
And he craves a warm retreat.

He views the sky with mixed desire
To go or yet to stay.
Life’s tether weakens, breaks in two;
His soul wings up, away.

Who holds the honor of book dedication for you?