They finally got their break and sprinted across the road to the other side. Soon they were walking across the field towards the dense orchard. A few quail rose up out of the field, disturbed by their passage.
Reaching the orchard they walked under its cool canopy, following a well worn path to the creek. They could hear the water as they approached, and were lucky enough tat day to have the creek to themselves.
The Last Disruptor — Chapter 27 The Long Way to the Creek
For kids that grew up in a certain section of Vacaville, Calif. in the 1970s, this should be a familiar scene. Across Elmira Road and the railroad tracks, you could go down to the creek and find a natural stone water slide and swimming hole. As a kid, I got the chance to go down to that creek with my brother and our friends in the summers and enjoy the sights and sounds and smells.
These days as I write, I find my mind held tight by memories of childhood. My childhood was a constant adventure in the 1970s. We rode or walked across town and found all kinds of adventures. Such was the freedom of childhood back then. It was truly magical and I hope I was able to capture some of that for my book, The Last Disruptor, in which Crate, a fifth grader, aided by his friends, goes on an adventure that takes him far beyond just his town, but to another world.
That he’s in fifth grade is also no accident. I think that’s the age where I really began to feel intellectually capable. By that mean I mean it’s at this age where you’re able to reason out a lot of things, grasp higher concepts, but you still feel and see the world as a child. You have this sense of justice and order to the world as well as this sense of possibility and you see and feel the newness of everything.
I tried to keep Crate, Brooke and Ryan in that world. Though they do grow up some in the book, as we all must. But growing up doesn’t mean forgetting or even moving on from those memories. In fact, I find that the older I get, the more grown up I get, the more those old memories come to mean so much more to me and, instead of me holding on to them, they have held on to me. And I am thankful for that.
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Robert Varnon -- R.D. Varnon 