Things that cross my mind…
News article and interview on Walden Hill in Over the Mountain Journal
Nov 2nd
Check out this great news article featuring The Walk to Walden Hill!
A Novel Tribute Teacher’s First Book Honors His Real-Life Mentor
Robert Abernathy has
always enjoyed writing.
The Simmons Middle
School science teacher had
written songs but never really
considered diving into the
realm of fiction.
However, one day, inspired
by some of his students and a
childhood mentor, he sat down
and wrote the opening chapter
of what would become his first
novel.
“I wrote the first chapter, and
I knew how the book would end,
but I didn’t know exactly how to
connect the two,” he said. “I kept
writing, discovered twists and
turns along the way, and about
a month later, I had a finished
novel.”
“The Walk to Walden Hill”
tells the story of Josh Billows,
a boy who loses his family. His
father is arrested and put in
prison, and his mother dies in an
accident. As the novel unfolds,
Josh discovers how to forgive
those who have hurt him the most
with the help of Paul Walden
Download the PDF and read the whole thing!
Need Book Reviewers
Oct 20th
I’m looking for some reputable reviewers among various media outlets to rate and review the book (Walden Hill Official Trailer)for future references. Please respond to this post with your name, address and credentials and I will get one out to you!
Thanks
Robert Abernathy
The Almost Mostly True Stories of Walden Hill-Part 2
Sep 22nd
While writing the book, I stumbled on numerous experiences in my life that just had to be included in the story. Since the book follows the life of a boy through the pubescent weirdness stages as well as teenage and early adult, I felt compelled to include a story that was mostly true. I added a little here and there to spice it up, but the following story, is the ACTUAL true account. If you have read the book, this will no doubt bring back a memory of one of the pivotal points in the story.
TRUE Story #2: The Hallway Beatdown.
In the summer of 1986, our family of five moved from Gadsden, AL to Huntsville. I had just completed a season of all-star Little League Baseball while in Gadsden that included a District and State Championship and finished 4th in the Southeastern Regionals–ONE game away from the Little League World Series. Life was good. I was a pitcher on a team that smoked the competition, surrounded by great athletes and friends. I had several, in fact, that had been a part of my childhood since I could walk. And just prior to my departure, a few parents and friends pitched in a threw me a going away party that took me by complete surprise. Once the successful season, the party, the goodbyes had finally concluded I was whisked away to new surroundings.
I didnt welcome the change at all. I wanted to stay. But, since Dad had recently been laid off from the tire industry, the next best thing was a job 70 miles away in a new town, new neighborhood with new people. Our family had to relocate.
I didn’t make new friends very well, apparently. I went from a successful student, athlete, praised by many to a 7th grade nobody in a new school within a week. During my first week at Whitesburg Middle School, I had made one friend–a small Hispanic young lad who was still honing his English skills. He was new to the school as well, a language we both understood.
Two weeks into the school year, between classes one day, we were out in the hallway goofing off, when out of nowhere this angry 8th grade dude came busting up between us like he was a superhero saving the innocent. He had about 5 or 6 guys behind him that were just tagging along, watching as the event began to unfold. He apparently thought I was picking on THE ONLY FRIEND I HAD ON EARTH at the time and proceeded to intervene. He pushed me into the locker, and the next thing I knew we were rolling around in adjacent classroom.
Let it be known–I didn’t want to fight. I was new. Unlike most fights where you have two angry people—seconds earlier, I was doing fine minding my own business, waiting for the next class to begin. I had no reason to fight and I wanted the scuffle to be over. To anyone keeping score, the punk won. It was a situation where I desperately tried to escape and lost. He punched with a frenzy that to this day, I still dont understand. He was mad. When I returned to school, the eyes were on me as I walked the halls–the guy who got beatdown. I sank into a depression that very few people could understand at the time. I was at the opposite ends of the spectrum within a matter of weeks.
Success to Failure.
Praise to Humiliation.
Pride to shame.
To any 13 year old, thats a lot to handle.
The Myth
Anything beyond what you have just read is purely mythical and was put into the book to add to Josh’s misery, but I thought it would be nice to place this little story in the wake of his move from Mississippi to Alabama. You can actually read most of this chapter online as it is available for free on the publisher’s (Crossbooks) website. Go to the book’s homepage here and click on “Free Preview.” You’ll see much of the chapter and this story online in a MOSTLY TRUE account of a story that will go down as one of the worst days ever.
Coming up: on The Almost Mostly True Stories of Walden Hill-Part 3
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The Peach Orchard and Mrs. Elizabeth Grace Walden
The Almost Mostly True Stories of Walden Hill-PART 1
Aug 30th
Ok. So, you’ve read the book and you’ve wondered whether or not this was a true story. This seems to be a growing question in the book’s infancy. I thought I would address a few of the questions I have been asked and shed a little light on the plot and main characters, in particular-Mr. Walden.
TRUE STORY #1. The Garden of 2005.
Lets go ahead and get the obvious out the way. Mr. Walden was a real man (1914-2007). I became acquainted with Mr. and Mrs. Walden at the church I attended at the time, First Baptist Church of Southside. As a high school athlete, it was also with regularity that Mr. Walden was present at high school football, baseball and basketball games. He was a very tall man and was one of those figures that you just always noticed. He wasnt shy and enjoyed talking with the people, parents and athletes. My senior year, Mr. Walden was at most of my baseball games. He enjoyed the sights, the smells and friendly faces that always welcomed him at the ballpark.
Upon graduation, my friendship with Mr. Walden began to grow. I often found myself over his house helping with whatever he needed. Much of the time it was just the company that he enjoyed. He also didnt mind helping out others as well…even in his old age.
In the spring of 2005, and at the age of 91, I really did call on Mr. Walden for help. I only asked for his advice, though. He showed up with a tractor. This was my first garden. It was, like his….100th. He knew what he was doing, I guess. He asked me where to plow, I pointed, and then he went to work. I offered to help, but he just continued. His tractor chewed my fence to pieces and it looked like bomb went off in my backyard. I stood on my back deck and let him go to work. He loved it though. He was past his prime and was still able to contribute to a gardening rookie like myself.
Consequently, my garden really did fall apart. The only vegetable that survived the Vegetable Massacre of 2005 were my cucumbers, and that is only because I planted waaaaaaaaay too many. I had a pickle-making party that lasted two months. He was amused to say the least. Everything else in my garden had the stench of the black plague. He gave me pointers, but I was too stubborn to listen. My second year was much better.
Your comments?
Coming up on “The Almost Mostly True Stories of Walden Hill”…
TRUE STORY #2. The 7th Grade Hallway Beatdown. Stay tuned…
