Here's a list of things that I have meant to do for some time:

--send a copy of Rodney Robbins to the people who live at the real house in which the story takes place

--send a copy to my mother-in-law (ouch!)

--send copies to my friend who lives in Vermont

--send one to the librarian downtown who was so helpful with Mumsi

--work on other stories including but not limited to a novel for adults, a devotional book, poetry, and several picture book ideas

Here's what I have done so far:

--nothing (as far as writing goes)

That's not entirely true. The nothing part, I mean. I do think about writing a lot. I think of ideas all of the time (two in the last two days). Then I bring them up occasionally to my family--"That could fit into my new book," I say. They, "What new book?" Me, "The new book I'm thinking about." They, "Is this the same one you were thinking about last month?" Me, "Well . . . " They, "Oh."

Sometimes I think about writing when I'm falling asleep. I can restart the same scene the same way several nights in a row as I drift off. So there's this little boy who has a pet lizard. . . . There's comfort in sameness anyway.

Ayuh!

I've always been interested in words. It probably started with my parents' giving me a Word-a-Day calendar when I was in seventh grade. I've been hooked ever since. (Incidentally, I still get a W-a-D calendar under the Christmas tree. Today's word: xylography, the art of making engravings on wood.) Well, enjoying words turns quickly into loving phrases and proceeds quite naturally into adoring sentences. One particular aspect of logophilia is fascination with colloquialisms and regionalisms.

This brings us around to ayuh, a New Englandism if ever there was one. Ayuh usually means "yes." However, language connoisseurs note that although at first blush the word has a positive connotation, it also may possess negative meanings which are expressed in "extremely subtle undertones" that "only a native New Englander can discern." (See The New England Accent for more information on ayuh and other New Englandisms.)

And now we get around to the point (finally!) of this little essay. My Grandfather Hamilton, whom my new book Rodney Robbins and the Rainy-day Pond features, said ayuh frequently. Grandpa was a Vermonter through and through, but he lived much of his adult life in Waltham, Massachusetts. He said ayuh differently than the official pronunciation, which stresses the first syllable: ay'-yuh. Grandpa Hamilton always said ay-yuh'--with the second syllable almost clipped off, almost like "uh-huh" in emphasis but sounding a lot like "yeah." "So howdya like the brown bread and baked beans, Floyd?" my grandmother might ask. "Ayuh," he might reply, holding out his plate. This meant, of course, "They're delicious. May I please have some more?" A man of few words, just like in my book.