Family traditions. Neighborly values. Community pride. In
The Rocking Chair Reader series, readers are taken back in time to pre-1955 small-town America, where life was simpler and old-fashioned values meant something.
Coming Home, the flagship title in this new inspirational series, features more than sixty true stories from ordinary folks who return to such small towns as . . .
Albertville, Alabama Brownsville, Pennsylvania Clyde, North Dakota Felton, California Grand Junction, Colorado Indian River, Michigan Marshall, Texas North Arlington, New Jersey Rupert, Idaho Westport, Massachusetts Brimming with small-town wisdom and warm nostalgia, the first in the series, Coming Home, presents the full flavor of the towns the way they used to be-and the way we want to remember them.
As an added feature in this magnificent volume, ten towns have been specially profiled, highlighting history, points of interest, and fascinating trivia. So sit back in your favorite rocking chair and enjoy these tales that evoke nostalgia for past eras and the homespun flavor of Main Street, USA.
From "The Redbirds," by Sandy Williams Driver of Albertville, Alabama
About a week after my sister left, our postman, Mr. Mabry, rang the front bell and hand-delivered an envelope covered in funny looking stamps. It was our first letter from Alaska. Momma read it at least fifty times that afternoon. I liked the last part the best because it contained some very important words especially for me: Tell Sandy that every time she sees a redbird, I'll be thinking of her.
Brenda and I loved anything red, especially the scarlet-colored birds often seen fluttering about in our shaded back-yard. I was ecstatic when I rushed out the back door and a stately cardinal flew right past my smiling face. Surely Brenda had sent it straight from her new home to let me know I wasn't forgotten.
I saw many redbirds while my sister was gone and I talked to the ones close enough to hear my wishes. Then one day in May 1971, a whole family of redbirds filled the dogwood tree in our yard. I stood under the blooming branches and couldn't help thinking that Brenda must be trying to tell me something. I rushed into the house and skidded to a stop as I entered the kitchen.
Momma was crying and sobbing loudly. Fearing the worst, I wrapped my arms around her waist and held on tight, bracing myself for the impending disaster.
"She's coming home, Sandy. Your sister is coming home," she said in broken sobs.
