C. H. Becwynn Writes

One Saturday afternoon, in the late 1960's, a hopeful, and slightly nervous, mother went about her tasks of the day, tiptoeing back and forth through the dining room where her awkwardly tall, skinny, youngest child sat behind the family's old, black Royal typewriter and began to create. Or, so she anticipated. Little did she know that after one paragraph, the easily distracted young girl would be longing for the outdoor sunshine and comfort of her favorite, front-yard Mimosa tree where it was much easier to daydream stories in her mind than it was to put pen to paper.

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Some fifty years later, and after a fulfilling career of writing research, technical and briefing papers, the aged mind of those childhood daydreams is ready to share a few stories with the world.