Frederick W. Koteskey
You're invited to visit Michigan's Horton Bay in the 1930s when the world was young and the delightful innocence of Billy Snyder presents the reader with a few hours of pleasure reminiscing about a gentle time in our history that never again can be. This book has short chapters and is easily readable in one sitting. Let the reader share the happy and carefree days of the Great Depression in a community held together by its concern for everyone.
Share young Billy's sensitive life as he helps his father build a log cabin in a grove of maple trees, as he goes from one adventure to another, as he wonders about his family's fundamental religion, and as he questions the subtle bigotry of the community. Shop at Horton Bay's general store, look in at the village blacksmith, join the worshipers at the local church, watch a Fourth of July fireworks display create havoc on the beach, sneak a peak at some girls skinny dipping in the moonlight, become part of the pleasures at a family reunion, feel the helplessness of the bucket brigade trying to extinguish the flames consuming a farm house, and sense the strength of a mighty threshing machine delivering golden grains of wheat for the harvest. These are but a few of the many experiences the reader will enjoy throughout the pages of Horton Bay.
Frederick W. Koteskey earned a Bachelor of Journalism degree from the University of Missouri, a Bachelor of Arts from Calvin College (Grand Rapids, Michigan), and Master of Arts from the University of Northern Colorado. Some of his post-graduate work was done in England with University of Birmingham's Extra Mural Division at Stratford-upon-Avon. Before teaching English and/or journalism from the junior high to junior college level in Michigan, Colorado, Germany, and Florida, he worked for the J. L. Hudson Company in Detroit, Michigan. In addition to classroom teaching, Koteskey was newspaper and yearbook advisor, was a lecturer in these fields, was a ghost writer in the Denver community, and did public relations for the Little Theatre of the Rockies at the University of Northern Colorado. The author has enjoyed writing as a hobby and is a past member of the National Writers Club and The Rocky Mountain Writers Guild. His first novel is written from personal experience as he knows the Horton Bay area of Michigan well as he spent many of his early summers there. An army veteran of World War II, he is now retired and living in Pensacola, Florida.
Early the next morning, the first trailer load went to the dump. Ethel and Mac and Doris returned the chairs to Mary Harris and completed most of the packing. Then Mac and Doris swept the entire cabin.
The men drove to the lake and returned with the boat. They unloaded it from the trailer onto the porch. In the trailer, the men cushioned many boxes of vegetable-filled Mason jars with sheets and blankets. The men carried the remainder of what had been packed and squeezed it into the trailer or a car.
Grandpa Oesterle and Bill held mattresses high off beds so that Will could wire them up from the rafters. The mice could not build nests in them there. Finally Will tied a green tarpaulin over the top of the trailer.
Ethel and her family gathered around the green Model A. 'Well,' the old man said as he started his car, 'I guess I've caused enough ruckus around here for one summer. Seen more excitement and real changes than any other year. Dad gum it, I hate to see it all end.' He let his car drift down the drive and waved out the window.
Will padlocked the cabin and when he walked back to the V-8, Bill was in the front seat where Ethel usually sat. She sat between her daughters in the back seat. Will pushed the starter button, cleared his throat, and no one spoke or looked back. The car hesitated to leave the grove.
Will stopped at the store and Bill filled the car with gas. His father went inside and gave Ben the money for the entire summer's bill. Will left an envelope there to cover Flossie Dyer's laundry charges. The Will Synder family owned no money to anyone in Horton Bay. They left much richer than when they had arrived a couple months ago.
Will drove his car past Bohunk Road and the young man next to him realized what a great legacy he had. Bill felt a comforting Gentle Presence within his soul. He glanced toward the bay and knew that cleansing water was lapping the sands. Polliwogs, he thought, are fun. Fun for the young but they, too, must mature. As he stared into space, a still, small voice within washed away all sand castle sadness.
'Dad,' said Bill as they neared Boyne Falls, 'if you need any help driving, let me know.'
Will smiled and as they approached a hill. Ethel wondered which of those two men would let the little boy within him call the upcoming hill something other than Old Round Top. Simultaneously the girls and their mother took a deep breath and, together, all three women in the back seat wondered exactly the same thing.
