A few weeks before my dear friend Al passed away, he called me on my cell phone and asked if I'd come up to his house, stating that he had something for me that might help me with my writing.
So, off to Al's house I drove. When I arrived at Al's home, he greeted me outside at the end of his driveway. There he stood with a very proud, but mischievous smile pasted on his face. As I looked at my friend, I wondered, what is he up to?
I was soon to find out that Al had a plan to help me to fulfill my dreams of writing books. Books he believed that I needed to write in order to share my experiences and to entertain the minds of the young and the old. Allowing them to be transported into my world full of adventures, stories of fun, and true stories that would come to life through my writing.
My friend Al knew me well, he knew that my mind was clear, and at peace with the world when I was in the outdoors; Whether fishing or hunting with my dogs Spruce and Oak, or just enjoying the peace and serenity of being outdoors.
I got out of my truck, and headed towards Al. The smile on his face growing and lighting up his face, his excitement apparent as he shifted from foot to foot like a cat walking on hot asphalt. “Come on, come on” he urged as he led me out behind his home to a small storage shed. The door to this shed was standing open, and I could see that the shed was full of all types of treasures. Treasures that I imagine my friend had gathered during the course of his life. Al's 'treasures' might be considered junk to some, or to most people. But to Al, they all had a special place in his mind, tangible objects that were linked to his dreams, plans, or to old memories. Each object holding reminders for him of unfulfilled dreams, or thoughts of new memories that had yet to be fulfilled.
Al pointed towards an old desk and asked me what I thought of it. I had no idea at this time the extent that Al was helping me to follow my dreams of being an author. Neither of us fully knowing just how much impact having this desk was going to be. At the time, it was just a dream in my friends mind that I would carry this desk to many different and beautiful places where my memories and my thoughts could be transferred onto paper through a pencil or pen. My friends mind somehow showing him a vivid full color dream of a
simple piece of paper on the top of this old desk turning into a story, then into a book to share with the world.
I had told Al my recounting of my experience with a big dog that had been stranded high up in the mountains while protecting some very special friends of his. Friends that this big dog never gave up on protecting, encouraging, refusing to give up no matter the obstacles. I've come to realize that my friend Al was just like this dog. Even the obstacle of death has not stopped him from having an influence in my life.
My heart is broken right now with the passing of my friend Al. But as I sit here, I realize that my heart is mending, being pieced back together by recalling my fond memories of Al, and with feeling the love that is radiating through this desk that Al knew would help me to follow my dreams. He just knew that it would.
As I carry this little red desk to a serene location, my dogs at my side, my pen meets the paper as I follow my dream and begin to write a book to share with the world, the story of Big Boy. This book is for you Al, my 'thank you' for your gift of this desk that I sit here and write upon. My 'thank you' for you always believing in me, and encouraging me to follow my dreams.
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About the Book
The book is about a great big dog that gets stranded high up in the mountains while fasting starvation and freezing cold temperatures in the middle of winter time. It's about developing a friendship between man and dog to try to gain trust between them two hopefully rescue the dog and the dog's friends .This is a true story about how true friends stick by each other's sides through all the trials of their lives.
About the Author
Jim Stone's education consisted of the most brilliant of teachers and the richest of classrooms. Nature taught him all the things that are important to know by including him in the day to day struggle of life and death so that he could know firsthand the pulse of life. He learned from observation. Noticing the intricate patterns that speak in languages only the soul understands. Although translation has proven to be difficult as words fail to encompass the depth of emotion that is necessary.