WORM FARM PART ONE:

BIG EXPECTATIONS

AND SMALL PACKAGES

 

“Wow!” exclaimed Andy, as an advertisement leaped off the page of the “COUNTRY FISHING MAGAZINE” like the lunker bass in an adjacent photo. Placed in its own box the ad looked very promising:

“Start your own worm business. Big profits. One Starter Worm Breeding Unit, Worm Breeding Manual, 500 worms and a free Mega Worms Catalog. ($99.00 Value) Only $19.95 + $6.95 shipping and handling.”

 

Scenes from a recent family discussion started replaying in his mind like parts in a play. His request for an allowance or a part-time job had been denied as usual. His family believed that allowances spoiled children and that he was needed on the family farm. Andy tugged down his Royal Rangers tee and said, “That’s how I can earn some money!”

 

Andy pawed through his top dresser drawer until he found his birthday money. He’d just celebrated his fourteenth birthday and had planned on using the money to buy fishing gear. Andy knew he’d be able to get a money order at the post office while his Mom was at the Laundromat. He grabbed a green Wayne Seeds cap from off his bed post, scrunched it onto his orange curly hair, and then went out to help his Mom take the laundry out to their red Chevy Citation.

 

Later, while riding in the car with his Mom, Andy asked, “May I stop at the post office?”

 

She asked, “What are you sending for now? More books?”

 

Andy anxiously replied, “No, I’m sending for a Worm Farm Kit. I’m going to sell worms.”

 

Mrs. Jenkins exclaimed, “You don’t need no Worm Farm Kit! Just put up a sign that says, ‘WORMS FOR SALE.’ Then go to the barnyard and dig’em up whenever you get a customer.”

 

Andy groaned and said, “But Mom, the barn is almost 1/2 a mile away. And the worms are too hard to find when it gets dry. It’ll take a half hour!”

 

“It won’t take no half hour,” grumbled Mrs. Jenkins. “You can dig a mess of worms in ten minutes.”

 

Andy replied, “O.K. Let’s say it only takes fifteen minutes to dig worms when it’s dry. It’s still going to be a seven or eight minute walk both ways. That’s still a half hour.”

 

Mrs. Jenkins asked, “Why don’t you dig them in the garden? That’s right in the backyard.”

 

“They’re too small. That’s why Dad always drives over to the barn to dig for worms.”

 

The scar on his Mom’s lower lip popped out. “Where there’s a will there’s a way!” quoted Mrs. Jenkins irritably. She added a religious saying that she thought was a Bible verse, “God helps those who help themselves!”

 

Andy knew he’d better be quiet.

 

Later, as they were getting ready for the six mile drive back from town, Mrs. Jenkins asked, “So how much do they want for that Worm Farm Kit Andy? I’ve heard of people sending for things like that before. It’s usually just junk.”

 

Hesitantly Andy replied, “It’s only $19.95. It’s reduced $10.”

When she gave him an I-thought-so look, he hurriedly continued, “The ad said that you get big profits and it’s a ninety-nine dollar value. You get one Worm Breeding Manual, a Worm Breeding Unit and 500 worms.”

 

Mrs. Jenkins warned, “By the time you pay taxes, shipping, and then buy a stamp and a money order, it’ll be almost $30.00. That’ll take all of your birthday money! Well, it is your money, Andy, but don’t complain to me if it ends up being junk!” She drove him to the post office. It was getting close to closing, but they allowed Andy inside. He bought the money order, stuffed it into the pre-addressed envelope with the Mega Worm order form, sealed it and slid it to the postal clerk.

 

Several weeks later, just before fishing season opened, the Worm Farm Kit finally arrived. When Andy and his Dad came back from doing chores his Mom said, “Your Worm Farm Kit came in the mail today Andy. It’s on the table.” Baking bread and bubbling chili con carne filled the farm kitchen with wonderful aromas.

 

Andy remembered his mother’s predictive comments so he didn’t say anything about how small the package looked.

 

Mr. Jenkins pulled a jackknife out of his bib overhauls, grinned and handed it to Andy. He said, “Don’t just stand there Andy! Open it up.”

 

After he’d sliced through the packing tape and pried open the cardboard flaps, Andy gently pulled out a tan colored Styrofoam box. The container was about fourteen inches long, nine inches wide, twelve inches deep and about an inch thick. “Maximum Capacity: 500 worms. THIS SIDE UP,” was imprinted on the top lid. He turned the unit over. The bottom also had a lid that differed from the top that had sliding plastic locks. It was labeled, “Baby Worm and Egg Crib.”

 

Mrs. Jenkins chuckled and said, “It looks like a six pack pop cooler to me.”

 

Andy lifted the lid. Inside was a paper bag labeled, “Worm Bedding: contains Sphagnum Moss and shredded paper.” Andy said, “It looks like a full vacuum cleaner bag, but much lighter.”

 

Stacked beside the bedding bag was a brick shaped box labeled “500 Worms.” One final packet was tucked between the bag and the inside of the box. Through the transparent plastic Andy saw a tiny pamphlet entitled, “Worm Breeding Manual” and a two inch by one inch manila envelope, labeled “Worm Food.” Andy waved the envelope and said, “It sounds like a salt packet.” As he picked it up he read the message on the reverse side of the packet, “ONE DAY SUPPLY OF WORM FOOD.”

 

“The way you were talkin’,” chided Mrs. Jenkins, “that Worm Breeding Manual was a big thick book.”

 

“Well,” replied Andy, “I thought manuals were big thick books.”

“At least it should be easy reading,” commented Mr. Jenkins.

 

Andy mumbled, “They must have forgotten to pack the catalog.”

 

Mrs. Jenkins pointed inside and said, “No Andy, I think that’s the folded sheet of typing paper on the bottom of the box.”

 

Andy reached in and pulled out the paper and opened it. He found two pages.

 

Page one was entitled, “1976 Mega Worm Catalog.” Hazy black and white photos of double, triple and quadruple sized Worm Breeding units filled the first half of the page. Pictures of worm bedding and worm food were also listed with small, medium and large sizes on the bottom section.

 

Page two was an order form. Boxed and printed boldly beneath the form was the following message:

 

“Minimum order $200.00. Worms are only three cents each when you order 10,000! Add %10 of total for shipping and handling. No C.O.D’s Please!”

 

Andy groaned, “Two hundred dollars minimum order? What a dumb catalog!”

 

“What’s that plastic strainer thingy?” asked Mrs. Jenkins.

 

Andy replied, “I don’t know Mom. I’ll check the instructions.” He opened the quarter folded sheet. The cover was a title page. He silently read until he found the pertinent instructions on the back of the mini-book. Andy read the micro-fine print out loud, “It says, ‘The screen divides the upper and lower compartments of your worm breeding unit. While the adult worms are too large to exit down through the screen, the juveniles will crawl into the bottom where you may easily transfer them to another container. We suggest that you remove the worms and bedding in the bottom half of the screen after three to four weeks and start a new worm breeding unit.’”

 

“Why don’t you put it together now?” suggested Mr. Jenkins.

 

“Don’t take too long and clean up your mess afterwards. It’s almost lunch time,” warned Mrs. Jenkins.

 

While Mrs. Jenkins stirred the chili, Andy assembled the unit. “Now all I have to do is put the worms in.” He opened the rectangular box labeled “500 Worms,” and then watched as two worms slithered back into concealment.

 

Mrs. Jenkins scraped off the wooden spoon and sat it on the ladle holder on top of the stove. She leaned over the table and poked a finger at the worm box and said, “There ain’t no five hundred worms in there! And the ones I do see are awfully tiny.”

 

“Maybe they’re hiding,” suggested Andy.

 

Mr. Jenkins probed the bedding material in the box of “500 Worms.” Andy knew from experience that his Dad had a knack for guessing numbers of objects in containers. His Dad had won a few prizes over the years for guessing objects-in-a-jar contests at neighboring county fairs. Andy knew the number wouldn’t be exact, but close. Mr. Jenkins continued to poke his finger around in the box of clumped worms and bedding and finally said, “Two hundred fifty max. But if there are eggs or pregnant worms, the population will increase.”

 

Andy dumped half of the worm bedding into the unit. He then placed the screen on top of the bedding. He dumped the worm box, with its damp bedding and clump of worms, onto the screen. Then Andy dumped the second half of the moss on top of the screen.

 

He scanned the instruction booklet again to find out what to do next. Andy placed a wet newspaper over the top of the bedding and tucked it around the inside edges of the unit. Finally he poured the envelope of worm food on top of the wet paper. He said, “The worm food looks like Cream of Wheat cereal!” Last, Andy squeaked the top lid into place and pushed it tight. “Maybe I could use Cream of Wheat. I sure can’t afford to buy four cases of Mega Worm Food!”

 

“Don’t you go feeding our Cream of Wheat to your worms! It’s too expensive,” exclaimed Mrs. Jenkins as she stirred the chili again.

 

“You’re on the right track, though,” said his Dad. “Your Uncle Walt used to raise worms. He used some kind of oatmeal concoction.”

 

“I remember!” said Andy, “A teaspoon of sand, three tablespoons of used coffee grounds and a third cup of oatmeal. All mixed together and then sprinkled over the top. Sometimes he put the food gunk from the rinse off side of the dish sink strainer in there, too. I forgot all about that. I helped Uncle Walt do that when I stayed with him for the weekend a few years ago, before he died.”

 

“If your Worm Farm Kit does grow more worms, it’ll take forever to raise enough to sell,” predicted Mrs. Jenkins.

 

“If I work at it,” said Andy, “I can dig enough this spring for both selling and worm farming. And I’ll need to dig extra for fishing! But where do I store them? I can’t afford a Mega Worm Breeder Crib!”

 

“God will help you if you trust Him son,” offered Mr. Jenkins. He added, “We have some crates and screens in the odds and ends shed. I think there’s a roll of screening that’s close to the size of your Mega Worm screen. We can have the top crate for the big worms and a bottom crate under the screen for the crib. I’ll show you how to do it, but you’ll have to work on the project yourself. I’ll even buy you an economy size canister of oatmeal! You can also use dirt instead of the expensive moss. Old newspaper, used coffee grounds, sand and water are free. We have boxes of used plastic containers. Those will do until you start bringing in money, then you can buy a stack of card board rounds at the Rod and Gun. How’s that sound?”

 

Mrs. Jenkins snorted and exclaimed, “I knew you didn’t need no Worm Farm Kit!”

 

“Great idea!” exclaimed Andy. He added, “You were right Mom, but examining this kit and looking at the booklet did help me learn a few things and get started.”

 

 

 

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WORM FARM PART TWO:

HOT WORMS AND COLD CASH

 

Andy Jenkins’ thirty dollar mail order Worm Farm Kit, after seven weeks of suspenseful anticipation, had finally arrived. Opening Day of the 1976 fishing season was only one day away.

 

Before lunch, in the presence of Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins, Andy had put together the long awaited Mega Worms Worm Farm Kit. Afterward the family shared a lunch of chili con carne, made with plenty of home grown Black Angus Beef. Served on the side, hot and fresh from the oven, baked wheat bread, sliced and slathered with farm-fresh butter completed the fine but simple meal.

 

For dessert they ate vanilla ice cream. On rare occasions or once every third consecutive leap year, as his Dad would say, they tried another flavor. Mrs. Jenkins always said, “What other flavor is there? That’s worth having anyway.” So as far as ice cream went, if they had any, it was usually vanilla or New York vanilla. Andy had learned that many times in life, being young meant that you just had to be thankful for what you were given. Grumble too much and you’d end up with nothing. Make the best out of situations and eventually things would turn around for the better.

 

Andy and Mr. Jenkins, after lunch, had gone to the odds and ends shed. True to his word, Mr. Jenkins found the crates and the screen that was closest in size to the Mega Worm “strainer thingy” as his mother had called it. Mr. Jenkins had showed Andy how to make a two section worm bed and worm crib. Andy spent over an hour after that project had been completed digging worms for his new larger and much cheaper Worm Farm Kit. He had also dug plenty of worms for the weekend’s fishing. Andy had worked hard that afternoon, in between farm chores, and felt pleased with his accomplishments.

 

Anxious about fishing, Andy had not slept well during the night. Opening of fishing was like the night before Christmas. He usually woke up cranky then, too. And of course days always came extra early for Andy. He and his father milked cows every morning at four A.M. Well actually his father milked. Andy dumped the buckets in the milk tank, washed udders and fed the cattle. Mr. Jenkins, for the most part, stayed busy strapping on the milking machines and talking about every subject under the sun.

 

During breakfast that morning Andy whined, “Can we skip devotions today? I want to go fishing right away.”

 

“No,” replied Mr. Jenkins, “We can’t skip devotions son, it just wouldn’t be right.”

 

“Why wouldn’t it be right to skip them Dad?” asked Andy.

 

“Did you enjoy your last birthday party?” asked Mr. Jenkins.

 

Andy answered, “Yeah Dad, it was great. Opening my present. Going to the movies. And then the pizza party. It was really fun.”

 

Mr. Jenkins replied, “What if I would have said ‘Andy, can we have your birthday party another day? I’ve got something else I’d like to do.”

 

“Oh, yeah, I see what you mean Dad,” replied Andy. “It’s like saying ‘I like fishing better than you God.’ I guess I’ll have to apologize to the Lord for making fishing an idol.”

 

Mr. Jenkins smiled and said, “That’s good son. There’s another side the issue as well. Do you remember that discussion we had about skipping class at school? You might skip one and the negative effect may be minor. But each time you skip it will desensitize you. After that it will take less and less reason to skip and soon you will be skipping frequently. Once you start taking short cuts in your relationship with Jesus, it’s not long and you will start doing that in more areas of your life and more often.”

 

Andy opened the Morning Manna devotional and started to read. “Do you want God to be merciful to you? Be merciful and forgive those who hurt you. Do you want God to bless you? Do good because it is the right thing to do. Read Luke 6: 35 – 38. ‘But love ye your enemies and do good. . .’”

 

Mr. Jenkins concluded by praying, “Lord, if we are trespassed against, help us to forgive. I thank you, Lord that you have the power to change curses into blessings, if we trust you, show mercy and do good.” Mr. Jenkins paused and said, “Let’s go fishing Andy! I bet those worms from your Mega Worms Worm Farm Kit won’t last the day!”

 

“They will, too!” boasted Andy. Then he laughed, “You tricked me Dad! I ain’t gonna use my business worms for fishing anyway. I dug up a whole bucket of fishing worms last night. I even found a few crawlers, too.”

 

“There aren’t enough worms in the county to bait all of the hooks of everybody who will be fishing at our lake today,” chuckled Mr. Jenkins. “You’ll be dipping unto your business worms in no time!”

 

“No way!” exclaimed Andy. “Who’s gonna be fishing at our lake today?”

 

“Uncle Bob and his kids are staying at the old farmhouse this weekend,” replied Mr. Jenkins. He added, “They are probably fishing right now.”

 

“Great!” exclaimed Andy.

 

Gravel rumbled under the wheels of their battered Ford farm truck. Mr. Jenkins took the long winding dirt road that ran from their mobile home along a fenced drop off to the cow lane next to the river. Grass and yellow puff-balled Matricaria matricaioides, commonly known as Pineapple Weed, which could be brewed as tea, formed a median strip in the one lane dirt road that connected the Jenkins farm to their house and also provided access at both ends to major county highways.

 

“There’s Uncle Bob’s station wagon at grandma’s old farmhouse,” said Andy. They drove between the farm house and barn. Andy’s eyes scanned the opening in the tree line that separated the field from the elevated house and barn area. Mr. Jenkins slowed as they drove though the opening. The front of the truck nosed down and into the field. They drove across the field towards the gate that entered the lake area of their farm. At the end of the field were a long fence and another drop off to a lowland pasture with a small lake. Bees droned in the fields as they checked out the newly emerging alfalfa and buzzed along the weed packed fence line. Andy inhaled the marshy breeze through the open truck window as they pulled up to the gate. He quickly jumped out of the truck and his Dad pulled through when he opened the gate. While his Dad pulled ahead to the nearby lake, he shut the gate. The lake, as well as the nearby swamp and river, were all part of the Jenkins’ cow pasture.

 

Andy ran up to the truck as Uncle Bob and his children sat down their rods and swarmed towards the Jenkins’ truck. Uncle Bob was a burly man with a white Walrus mustache and a gray streaked haircut. His ample belly peaked out from under his worn white t-shirt. He chewed on a stubby cigarillo as he greeted everyone out of one side of his mouth.

 

Uncle Bob’s children, the terrible twins, as they were known in the extended family, were twelve. Andy wished the twins were more like Uncle Bob. His uncle had some bad habits, but he was very easy going and generous.

 

Billy and Tina often called him carrot top, freckles and country bumpkin when adults weren’t around. He was actually not that excited about their visit. What he looked forward to was having his Uncle Bob around.

 

Andy said, “Hi Billy. Hi Tina.” He paused and exclaimed, “I’ve started my own worm business in the basement of our new house Uncle Bob!”

 

“Your Dad was tellin’ me about that last night. Good thing you got red worms. Crawlers don’t do well in captivity. You can store them O.K.–kinda– but they don’t tend to reproduce that-a-way.”

 

“I didn’t know that. Well, I suppose Uncle Bob, that I should grab my gear and get to fishing.” He jogged over to a spot not too far from where the twins had just picked up their poles and started fishing again.

 

Andy baited his hook and said, “I’m gonna make a lot of money selling worms.” He watched his bobber jiggle. “By next spring,” said Andy, “I’ll have a lot more.”

 

Billy snickered, “I’m going to get a real job.”

 

Tina asked, “How many worms you got in that Worm Farm Kit?”

 

“About 500,” replied Andy. “I have about half of them in one kit and about half in my second Worm Farm Kit that I made yesterday.”

 

“How much are you going to sell them for?” asked Billy.

 

“About a dollar a dozen. Right now I only got about forty two dozen.” Andy watched his bobber jiggle.

 

Billy said, “Hey Andy, me and Tina are going back. It’s too hot.”

 

“You’re quitting already?” asked Andy. They waved at their father as they grabbed their poles and took off for the old farmhouse.

 

The action was slow, but Andy, Mr. Jenkins and his Uncle Bob each caught several blue gills and a barely legal small mouth bass. While fishing with a Mepps Silver Minnow Spoon and a cane pole, Mr. Jenkins had a terrific strike. Just as quickly the cane snapped in three pieces and the monster fish, whatever it had been, was gone.

 

Hits began to increase in frequency as the sun climbed towards a spot between eleven and noon, which was very odd. Andy landed a nice, fat and sassy, large-mouth black bass, by dunking one of his crawlers right at the edge of a small floating bank of algae about three feet from shore. After that Andy fished farther out in the water. His bobber was momentarily tugged by a few nibbler strikes. Rumbling from his stomach reminded him that his own feeding time was coming soon. For about twenty minutes the bites started getting hot and heavy. All three fishermen doubled their catch very quickly. And then ten minutes passed without a nibble.

 

Andy stared across the lake — not that far — as the lake was very small and at one time had been a gravel pit. His Dad made an impatient cast with his alternate pole, a Zebco 202 rod and reel combo. When he saw Mr. Jenkins’ quick jerky retrieve, he figured that as soon as the line was in, his Dad would announce that it was time for him and Andy to go back, clean fish, and have lunch.

 

“Andy, it’s time to go,” said Mr. Jenkins.

 

“I’d better go too,” said Uncle Bob. “I better find out what those kids are up to, too! I hope they are at the house, but they brought their bikes. They may be out riding.”

 

“Uncle Bob” asked Andy, “why don’t you come over to our house tonight? Ma’s gone for the day, but she’s going to make a mess of fish tonight. Except when opening day is a blizzard, we always catch at least enough fish for a meal. Today wasn’t great, but it was O.K. The feeding pattern was weird. We musta missed the morning one.”

 

Andy put his gear into the back of the truck, and then jumped in himself. His Dad and Uncle Bob climbed into the cab. Gears grinding, the truck lurched up the rough cow trail into the barn yard. Next they emerged through a different gate nearer their house. Soon they were home. All three walked out back with their buckets of fish and put them on the folding table that had been set up for cleaning fish.

 

Newspapers, and an ice cream bucket, three spoons for scaling and three fillet knives had also been set out. Even though they had the filet knives they usually just scaled and cut off the heads, fins and bellies. Andy filled the ice cream bucket with fresh cold water from the garden spigot and brought it to the table.

 

Uncle Bob said, “Why don’t you take my fish, too? I don’t care what fish I eat as long as I get some.” Twenty minutes later they were done. They rinsed themselves and their knives and spoons off. Andy dumped the gut buckets a ways passed the yard and over the scrub oak choked river bank, and then returned to the house.

 

Uncle Bob smoked a fresh cigar and chatted with his Dad. Andy quickly cleaned off the cleaning table and took the cleaned fish into the house. Andy rinsed them off and tapped in a few knocks of table salt, slipped on the cover and put it away in the fridge.

 

Andy went back outside and joined his father and uncle. Uncle Bob was just saying, “I probably should get over to the house and see what those kids are doing.”

 

“I’ll give you a ride,” said Mr. Jenkins. He turned to Andy, “Why don’t you get lunch started Andy? Ma’s got canned goods and dry ingredients together in a box on the counter. There’s hamburger thawing in the fridge as well.”

 

Just then Billy and Tina rode their bikes into the yard from the County A entrance of the Jenkins property. The road that Andy and his father had used earlier went to the farm, passed the old house and ended up at County Road I.

 

Andy, as well as Mr. Jenkins and Uncle Bob watched them ride up the gravel road and park the bikes on the other side of the house. He peered through the lilac bushes that concealed the twins and their bikes.

 

Suddenly Andy yelled, “Dad. They got my Worm Farm Kit!” He raced towards the twins. He yelled, “Hey! What are you doing with my Worm Farm Kit?”

 

“Andy!” snapped Mr. Jenkins, “Hold off. Uncle Bob and I will handle this!”

 

“We-we decided to sell your worms for you,” stammered Billy.

 

“No one wants to buy your dumb worms anyway!” snapped Tina. She walked up to him and dropped four quarters down his shirt. The cool coins felt like flat ice cubes as they slid down his chest and caught near the bottom of his tucked in, pale blue, “gone fishing” t-shirt. Tina’s face was red, puffy and sunburned. She had a red abrasion on one arm and a leg. She backed away, screwed up her face, clenched her fists and bawled loudly for less than a minute.

 

Andy noticed that Billy had a bruise on his cheek and then ignored the twins. He scowled at the crushed Styrofoam Mega Worms starter kit that sat in the basket of Tina’s bike. One corner of the box was smashed. It was broken through in the middle and the top lid was missing. Powder dry sphagnum moss worm bedding lay heaped under Tina’s bike, where it had tumbled out of the breeder unit after she’d dropped the bike. Stinky clumps of dead worms dotted the surface of the bedding.

 

Billy’s bike had a large, white with blue speckles, Styrofoam ice chest without a lid fastened to his bike basket with two bungee cords. Andy stepped up to the parked bike and peeked inside just as his father and Uncle Bob appeared beside him. Cracked in several places and empty it was obvious that it had recently contained quite a bit of dirt. One small dead worm was squished and stuck to the bottom.

 

Uncle Bob said very firmly, as he waved a thick, stub fingered hand at Billy and Tina, “You know you are going to have to pay for this out of your money you have saved up.”

 

“I-I-I wasn’t going to steal the money, honest,” stuttered Billy.

 

Tina yelled, “If you would have been watching where you were going Billy, we wouldn’t have lost control of our bikes! It’s your fault because you ran into me! That’s how we broke the Worm Farm Kit doohickies!”

 

Mr. Jenkins said, “What’s done is done. You shouldn’t have done this without asking, Billy and Tina. And I’m glad neither of you were hurt worse than you were.”

 

Andy tried to keep in mind the morning devotion about forgiveness. He also reminded himself that getting angry with them wouldn’t bring back the Worm Farm Kit. He suspected that the second kit that he’d made had been dumped into the big cooler and that the dirt and worms were lying in a ditch somewhere out in the countryside. He was fairly certain that whatever they had sold wouldn’t have been given to him until they were discovered. They had a reputation for doing foolish things, like stealing, and always figured they would never get caught. At last Andy mumbled, “Well at least you didn’t break a leg or anything. And your bikes seem O.K. It sounds like a bad accident.”

 

Uncle Bob said, “Gander Mountain in Eau Claire has those kits from different companies. I’ll drive us over with the station wagon. There’s one brand on sale this weekend – a close out model — that has a starter kit similar to yours but they are about $5.00 each. There are larger models that cost more. We’ll check them all out. Tina and Billy will pay the bill and help you dig more worms tomorrow. I figure $50 dollars will get you set up again with four or five times what you had. I’ll even spring for lunch.”

 

Mr. Jenkins said, “That sounds more than fair, Bob. Andy, hop in back of the truck again. Billy and Tina can ride their bikes back.” He and Uncle Bob climbed in the truck again and headed over to the farm house.

 

As they were driving, from his position alone in the back of truck, Andy said, “Now I know what Dad’s devotional prayer meant.” He smiled and continued, “When we do what’s right, God turns our misfortunes into blessings.”

 

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Adventurer’s Horn was selected for review at the Midwest Book Review in Autumn 2014.

For more information about this book please click the link

https://www.createspace.com/6392685