WestBow Press, a division of Thomas Nelson, signed six Author Agreements with us on May 13, 2015 to publish all books highlighted on this website. In addition, on June 3, 2015, WestBow Press signed a seventh agreement to publish our new fiction book titled U’re Warned.
We are excited by WestBow’s interest in our books and their commitment to excellence. Our books should be available at most retail booksellers and Internet locations in the near future. As soon as they are, we will add a blog sharing where you can review and if interested purchase them. We will also post it on Facebook and Twitter.
Thanks for your patience and interest.
Dave and Lorraine Plante
“WestBow Press opened its doors in October 2009. Its legacy taps into the deep heritage of Thomas Nelson. Founded in 1798 in Edinburgh, Scotland, Thomas Nelson got its start in a building located at 7 West Bow Street, publishing early editions of many top fiction titles, including Pilgrim’s Progress and Robinson Crusoe and later releasing books by such authors as Jane Austen, Charles Dickens, and Arthur Conan Doyle.”
A close friend who lives out of town has three young sons. He and his wife visit about once a year and sometimes stay for a few days. During one of their visits, they needed to attend a wedding so we babysat their boys.
It was fun. At bedtime, I focused on the older one who, his dad had told me, had a hard time going to bed at night. After we played games and wrestled for a while, he nodded off to sleep without any conflict. My friend refers to that visit as “Dave’s boot camp,” because the boys had no problem going to sleep. I was complimented and reminded of a saying from my childhood relative to the subject.
As a young boy, I wasn’t interested in going to sleep at bedtime. While my dad was fighting World War II, my mother, sister, and I lived with my grandparents. I loved sitting in their living room during the evening and listening to the adults chat. Eventually, my grandmother would say, “David, it’s time for you to go to bed.” She had to be up early to go to work in the Gonic Woolen Mill.
Mom and I headed upstairs, and I got into bed. However, as soon as she walked back downstairs, I climbed out of bed and quietly sat on the stairs and through the railings watched them in the living room until I got bored. Then I got up and ran to my grandmother and asked her to tell me a story. She said, “I’ll tell you a story about Johnny Borey, and now my story has begun. I’ll tell you another about his brother, and now my story is done. And now, David, it’s time for you to go back to bed.”
At that point, I knew the fun was over, and that it was my turn to do the right thing. I kissed her and Mom goodnight and headed upstairs on my own. She and Mom always made me feel that I was responsible enough to do what was right, and that made me feel good about myself. I never met Johnny Borey and don’t believe he exists, but you never know. In a subtle and funny way, the story was a good way to tell children that it was bedtime.
Rules are amazing and can be beneficial in many ways. I can’t say I have ever been a lover of rules, but some have kept me from danger or out of trouble. To me, the source or originator of the rule has a lot to do with the value of the rule, and I assume that is true with most other people.
As a young boy and later as a teenager, I enjoyed riding my bike throughout our community. I had many part-time jobs until I could secure a work permit at age fourteen, so I was always out looking for work after school or during the summer.
When I couldn’t find work, one week I visited a classmate after school. She was one of the prettier and exciting girls in our class. She was social and invited me in and offered me cookies and a soda. I enjoyed the visit and decided I would do it again. The next day after school I biked to East Rochester and visited another good looking girl in our class. She was just as social; we had a wonderful time. I biked home thinking both girls were classy and a pleasure to spend time with. On the third day, I decided to bike to Rochester Hill and visited the third special girl in our class. She had beautiful brown hair and a bubbly personality. I again enjoyed the visit and felt I had discovered a new routine and planned to repeat it the following week.
However, the following Monday afternoon one of the three girls I had visited stopped me in the corridor at school. Her name was Lorraine. She asked if we could talk. I said, “Sure.”
We stepped out of the main stream of traffic so our words would not be heard by others. “The two girls you visited last week and I talked and decided that one of us needed to talk to you. What you are doing is wrong. Visiting three girls three days in a row breaks all the rules. You need to decide which girl you like the best and visit just her.”
I was fine with that and told her so. But I also wasn’t stupid. There was no way I was going to select one of them and send negative signals to the other two. I liked all three of them too much. I just moved my visits to the other side of town.
I did learn a new rule: smart ladies talk! It was a good lesson. Lorraine and I became close friends in our senior year. We eventually went steady, got engaged and married after I finished my first year of college. She now edits everything I write and has an editing guide book on her shelf titled, “Lori’s Rules.” I love her but have to admit that although I have not memorized every rule in her book, we have been happily married for fifty-four years.