Joyce Moyer Hostetter

susanwrites is hosting the Carnival of Children's Literature. To get our blogging muses going she has posed the following question:

What father or father figure has stood out in your mind long after you closed the pages of the book?

Wow! In reflecting on this topic I realize that there is a derth of good father figures in kiddie lit! Really now, how many can you list off the top of your head

1. Pa in the Laura Ingalls Wilder Books (he is brave, wise, resourceful)
2. Atticus in To Kill a Mockingbird (he is principled and compassionate)
3. Dad in A Crooked Kind of Perfect by

lurban(he is fearful but trying, he is gentle and kind,)
4. Sam in Quaking by

kathyerskine (he is embarrassing, compassionate, principled)
5. Daddy in Gentle's Hollar by

mountainmist (he is artistic, unreliable, a dreamer, fun)

Okay, so the derth is in my brain. There are a few out there. But I don't actually have time to brush up in order to blog about them.

Of course by writing Hugging the Rock, Susan demonstrated the ability to create a good dad when one is needed. I've been intending to review her fabulous little book but I'd like to do it justice so this isn't the time for that either. (Soon Susan - very soon!)

So, on the subject at hand - I think I will just go for shameless self promotion!

I'm writing a sequel to BLUE. Much of it is about how Ann Fay's relationship with her daddy changes after the war. And about her adjustments to life with a disability. And how they help each other through hard times.

I've decided to post a few excerpts because they were on the tip of my brain when nothing else would show up.

From the Prologue

For some reason, I thought that when my Daddy come home from fighting, my world would be put back right again.

Not perfect right of course, on account of Bobby dying of polio while Daddy was gone. And me catching it too and coming home from the hospital on crutches.

Still, I thought Daddy and me both coming home would be like putting the last piece in a puzzle and sitting back to enjoy the pretty picture.

But hard as I tried, I couldn’t make things be the way I wanted them with Daddy.

I learned quick enough that when someone drops a bomb in one small place on this planet

it shatters the whole universe.

And not just for a little while either.

The breaking goes on forever…

And from Chapter 6

I didn’t even hear Daddy crawl in under those wisteria vines. But I felt him pick me up and pull me against his chest. He stroked my hair away from my eyes and patted my cheek with his rough hand. “Let it out, baby,” he said. “Let it out.”

Who would’ve thought I had more tears in me? But I started up again—so hard and so long I’m pretty sure God had to go hunting for another bottle. I cried harder than I had in a long, long time. And when I finally stopped, Daddy said. “How about we go down to the creek? I’ll wash your wound and we can clean it up proper when we get back.”

He knew, without me saying so, that I wasn’t ready to face my family just yet. So we crawled out under the vines and Daddy knelt and helped me get on his back. When we got to the creek he set me on my favorite rock and took off the clumsy shoe that held the brace on my leg. And he took my brace off too.

I sat there for awhile, enjoying the feel of my feet in the creek. Daddy dipped his handkerchief into the water and blotted at the scrape on my arm. It stung but I didn’t complain because just the fact of him dabbing at it so gentle made even the hurting feel good.

I guess I'm right there with Susan. When you need a good daddy, why not create one?!