In Between the Pages-Burying Daisy Doe by Ramona Richards
No cold case is more important than the one that destroyed her own family
When I was growing up in Hartselle, Alabama, I knew I wanted to experience the world. I’d lie in the front yard and dream about the adventures being had by the folks in the planes going over head. When we moved to Nashville, that craving got even worse.
By then, I was already writing out adventures grown from my imagination—and the hundreds of books I loved. My mother bought me a typewriter when I was only 10, and those adventures of the imagination started piling up on my desk. As soon as I was able, some real ones happened as well.
Sometimes folks will ask me how I’ve managed to do so much and have the adventures I did. Usually, there’s a slight tone of disbelief in the question, but that tends to vanish when I simply say, “I’m old. And I don’t believe in turning down too many opportunities when they knock.” This means a lot of labels could be applied to me. Here are just a few:
- Writer
- Editor
- Speaker
- Teacher
- Hiker
- Scuba diver
- Traveler
- Mom
- Ex-wife
- Believer
- Singer
- Musician
- Band member
- Caregiver (see also Mom)
- Daughter
- Sister
- Actor
- Producer
- Stagehand
- Cross-stitcher
- Movie buff
- Reader
But most of all . . . I can just be a fun person to have a burger with.
And I can promise you, if you sincerely open yourself up to anything God wants of you, He’ll astonish and terrify you all at the same time. But it’s all good. Ask me, for instance, how I wound up starting over in Birmingham at age 60.
In fact, ask me anything. Just be warned: I usually have a story to tell in answering all questions.
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