Recalls a poem from many years ago at rural schoolhouse.
I remember a poem I did at one occasion at one of our school programs:
"The night was dark and dreary,
And a storm was drawing night
Lightning flash across the sky.
But see from out a lonely wood
There comes a vengeful man
A blood-stained club is firmly
Grasped within his strong right hand.
The club is raised
It falls with a sickening thud,
And there on the cold damp ground
A potato bug!"
Back in 1955 a call went out from the editors of the then Capper’s Weekly asking for readers to send in articles on true pioneers. Hundreds of letters came pouring in from early settlers and their children, many now in their 80s and 90s, and from grandchildren of settlers, all with tales to tell. So many articles were received that a decision was made to create a book, and in 1956, the first My Folks title – My Folks Came in a Covered Wagon – hit the shelves. Nine other books have since been published in the My Folks series, all filled to the brim with true tales from Capper’s readers, and we are proud to make those stories available to our growing online community.
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