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Tattle Tale Talk #2 Win My Home Free Huntington Hills Golf and Country Club

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Francis Edwards has published his second book:  Tattle Tale Talk #2.  This is a book that relates to his early childhood.  This idea is to let the reader relate to his character.  The focus of the book is on his life in Rehoboth Beach, Delaware.  He can't believe all that happens to him and his family.  They try everything to stay afloat, but find quick sand.  Read the book and enter his contest to win his family home in Lakeland, Florida by sending in answers to his 10 questions from each of his three book series.  Please read his books to gain an insight on an American modern day struggle to exist.

Chapter 1  Dela..Where?

DELA.WHERE?  Come on…find the clues and figure out the answers then save your industrious work.  Submit all three (1,1,1) QUESTION SHEETS to find out if you are the one who correctly answered the questions and is picked to be the contest winner.  Each of three books contains ten questions based on the readings.  The PRIZE: MY Family HOME.  Please read all the details of this contest on the Details page. 

My family retracted from New England to return to the good old days.  We wanted to reconnect ourselves with the wonderful life we all had living in Ocean City, New Jersey.  Realizing that nothing stays the same and that you can 't really go back, we sought out Rehoboth Beach, Delaware.  This seaside resort was similar in appeal to what Ocean City, New Jersey offered some forty years before.  Rehoboth Beach still retained the charm of mostly single story seaside homes with green lawns and pine trees dotting along streets that ended in wide beautiful beaches.  This town claims a small boardwalk with a few interesting shops, pizza parlors, and arcades, but the main retail center spills off the boardwalk down both sides of Rehoboth Avenue.  This very small coastal town was yet mostly untouched by developers who couldn't undo the strict zoning laws put in place to make sure the town would remain preserved. 

We had lots of road to cover on our way South from Maine.  This provided hours of quiet reflection on years past and memories held deep down inside the physic that became revelations anew.  This all starts off when someone asks the question, "Do you remember?" 

I can somehow vividly remember my childhood, growing up in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.  Those early years were split with both good and very bad experiences that molded a character and unique personality.  I can remember not wanting to walk.  I was more interested in looking closely at the designs and intricate patterns in the Oriental rug on the floor.  I would just sit with one leg tucked under my torso with the other leg bent in a way that would let me hop and skip my way around the room.  My elders thought something was wrong.  I would never walk.  My aunt interceded and gave me a slap on the backside.  This certainly cured my fascination.  I have been walking ever since that correction in character building. 

The good part of my early childhood was spending every weekend at my grandmother's house in East Liberty, (Pittsburghers pronounce it East Sliperty) an area close to downtown Pittsburgh.  Those weekends included going to choir practice, attending church and walks up around the reservoir in Highland Park or maybe a Sunday afternoon car ride in our yellow Willys.  We always visited Sears & Roebuck on Saturdays and ended up watching the newest household appliances such as a washing machine or dishwasher with complete fascination wonderment.  If we kids were on good behavior, we were allowed to attend a big screen movie in an air-conditioned theater for a matinee performance with live organ.  Another great thrill was to chase the ice wagon delivering ice blocks to keep food cold in homes.  Food that had to be kept cold was stored in an insulated tin box that was half inside and outside the house in a punched out hole the iceman gave us chips of ice that we could suck on.  Besides the iceman, I cannot forget Mr. Moony Man.  He came calling in a horse drawn cart down our street every Monday with fresh vegetables, fruit and eggs.  My grandmother only had to visit the grocery store and butcher to purchase such things as bread, jam and meat.  She would ask the clerk for those provisions, and he would wrap them in white paper so that she could place them into a wicker basket to carry home. 

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