Will the real Katie Did...
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Adult, fiction shorties...from long ago. More to be posted soon.
1) "Worthless Old Fool"
2) "Everything Means Something"

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Click HERE for
Katie's favorite collection of moving, thought provoking,
sometimes gut busting stories and e-mail from friends and family.

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Click HERE for some of Katie's

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Dear Visitor,

First I'd like to say, "Thank you for visiting my web site." Next I'd like to ask, "Why are you here at this page, and what exactly is it that you are looking to find?" Perhaps you are curious about the person who wrote all these stories, and hopefully, you enjoyed them and found them suitable for your children. My greatest desire is that a child will read, wonder, investigate, and then read some more. That is, and always shall be, my main motivation for writing. After reading this page, if you choose to keep doing so, perhaps you'll come to know someone who was a total stranger when you first dropped by, but who somehow has entered your heart and your thoughts in a positive, uplifting manner. Hopefully, I can get at least a chuckle or a smile out of ya, and make you realize that we are all truly special in our own unique way.

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Perhaps you accidentally clicked on the wrong link, or are simply reading this out of boredom because you are waiting for another page to load from this or another site. In that case, click here to go back to the main page, and thanks for dropping in.

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For those of you who are looking to 'examine' my College Degrees, or credentials which might indicate someone else's opinion that I am a writer…well, I have to apologize right now for disappointing you. I have none of those things. I'm not an English Major, I don't have a Masters in Child Psychology, I've never worked in a daycare, I don't even have children.

But what I do have is a wonderful memory of childhood. I still catch my self avoiding cracks in the sidewalk so as not to 'break my mother's back'. I still go barefoot as much as possible, I wear my socks outside more than my shoes, and I can still wile away hours with a notebook and a box of crayons. I sleep with a stuffed 'Grinch' doll, and watch The Wizard of Oz every year. I still eat 'Pez' candy and I can still sing all of the words to Gilligan's Island and Scooby Doo. And while all of this doesn't necessarily make one a Children's Writer, I will tell you now, what does make me one, and that is…because I say so!...and I write.

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When I said I had a wonderful memory of childhood, I didn't mean to imply that I had a wonderful childhood. I didn't. In fact, (even though I know they loved me) I don't think my parents could have screwed it up any worse than they did. But I know now that they did the best they could with what they had to do with. I know that is such a cliché these days, and it's not to say that I accept it as an excuse…just a reason. I have learned to let that go.

I am also glad that I can't have children. I physically can not have them, so wouldn't it suck to want them? The thought of sending a child into the world only to grow up and need hundreds of hours of therapy from my result of having raised them with the only skills I have from being raised myself, is one I'd rather not deal with. A cop out? Maybe. I really try not to torture myself with the "what ifs?" and the "why nots?"

Mostly, what I know is, I still remember what it's like to stomp in a mud puddle and feel the splatter of ooze up my legs and the sprinkle of murky water on my face. I'll have to admit, I haven't done that one in a while. I remember taking construction paper cutouts of turkeys and snowflakes to bed with me because I simply couldn't believe that I had made something so beautiful. And if it were out of site for one second, I would desperately yearn for 'proof' that I did 'create' something... something that I never understood how it came out of me, or if I would ever be able to do it again. To this day, I have to say, when I write a verse or a story, I will carry it with me wherever I go until it is committed to memory. In the case of art work, I still take that to bed with me. Well, at least to the night stand.

So, I'll just say what qualifies me as a Children's Writer, in my mind, is the simple qualities of desire, action, and passion. My ability to return to those scenes of long ago, and recall vividly the sights, sounds and smells of childhood are mere enhancements to the former.

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My father was a wonderful, funny man, and he managed to retain a bit of his childhood in his day to day endeavors until the day he died. He used to say, (as all dads do I'm sure) "The older you get, the smarter I'll get." And you know what? He was so right. To this day, and I just turned 39 in July, I still marvel at his past words of wisdom, that at the time I thought purely hogwash.

I remember one particularly difficult, pubescent day, I was angrily isolating in my bedroom, and he looked in on me. The world was so clueless as to my huge problems, and no one understood me. He saw the anger and the resentment on my thirteen year old face and his eyes filled with tears. He said to me, "Karen, I don't know what exactly it is you are going through right now, but life really should be as happy as a lark." At the time I thought I would puke from the corniness of that statement, but I have grown to love that memory and the sound of those words.

If it weren't for my father and his sane, supportive side of the family, and my step mother, who has truly stepped in (pardon the pun) as my mother and best friend, my entire childhood would have been a wash out. So while that childhood might have been better, it is the only one I have, and the harshness of it and the painful memories, which I shall not bore you with, seem to serve as a grinding stone against which I sharpen my imagination and my humor. I realize now, the abuse I suffered at the hands of my mother and stepfather only served to hone my sense of compassion and my understanding of the inner workings of a seven-year-old brain. The nonsensical thought processes, which seem utterly ridiculous to an adult, I shall never forget. So, while I may not possess any cultural proof that I am a writer, I will simply say...I can be whatever I want to be, and today…I want to be a writer!

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Following below, is a wonderful, refreshing statement that truly describes, "Katie Did, The Grown Up Kid". I did not write the "Official Adult Resignation", but I think it is definitely worth sharing. And while we may not be able to retreat to the days of digging our big toes in the melting tar patches of the streets, or the horrific terror of ticks stuck in our belly buttons, I believe we can all rethink our day to day, mundane tasks of survival, and achievements, and see the world as something exciting, adventuresome and amazingly full of wonderment. It's hard to do, but I know when I put the same amount of effort into that, as I do getting out of a speeding ticket, or calling around town for the best price on siding for my house, I will at least come up with a moment of pure peace. And that is worth all of the riches in the world. Watch the children... they truly do have the secret to happiness.

Karen Byrum
Alias,  ~Katie Did, The Grown Up Kid~

Official Adult Resignation

I am hereby officially tendering my resignation as an adult. I have decided I would like to accept the responsibilities of an 8-year-old again. I want to go to McDonald's and think that it's a four star restaurant. I want to sail sticks across a fresh mud puddle and make ripples with rocks.
I want to think M&Ms are better than money because you can eat them. I want to lie under a big oak tree & run a lemonade stand with friends on a hot summer's day.
I want to return to a time when life was simple. When all you knew were colors, multiplication tables, and nursery rhymes, but that didn't bother you, because you didn't know what you didn't know and you didn't care. All you knew was to be happy because you were blissfully unaware of all the things that should make you worried or upset.
I want to think the world is fair. That everyone is honest and good. I want to believe that anything is possible.
I want to be oblivious to the complexities of life and be overly excited by the little things again. I want to live simple again.
I don't want my day to consist of computer crashes, mountains of paperwork, depressing news, how to survive more days in the month than there is money in the bank, doctor bills, gossip, illness, and loss of loved ones.
I want to believe in the power of smiles, hugs, a kind word, truth, justice, peace, dreams, the imagination, mankind, and making angels in the snow.
So....here's my checkbook and my car-keys, my credit card bills and my 401K statements. I am officially resigning from adulthood. And if you want to discuss this further, you'll have to catch me first, cause,
"Tag! You're it!!

author unknown

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