Escaping Danger by Dorothy Dubel

Thursday, September 9, 2010

Kids & Reading

My first brand-new, very own book was Grimm’s Fairy Tales.

It was a Christmas present from my mother and dad.

I was in the third grade. I poured over the stories and read them over and over again savoring every word. When it was ‘Show & Tell Day’ I proudly brought my book to school (PS #40 in Buffalo) and was asked to read a story from it out aloud. My teacher, Miss O’Sullivan immediately took me by the hand and into the fifth grader’s class room across the hall. “Here is how you should read a story to others!” she sternly told that class. I read a story and to my surprise the teachers and kids applauded! For days a lot of kids told me how well I read that fairy tale.

I knew, even as a child, that I wanted to be an author some day and write stories for other kids to read. I still have that well-worn faded red storybook among my memorabilia!

- Dorothy

Saturday, August 28, 2010

First Edition

A limited number of autographed, First Edition (March 2009) copies of "Escaping Danger" are still available directly from the author. "I would be delighted to personally inscribe your copy just for you!" Cost $40. Includes shipping.

Send me a note at escapingdanger@gmail.com

-Dorothy

Wednesday, August 25, 2010

Books and Salad?

I am in love with all the new gadgets for reading books. I recently saw a charming fellow and his lovely wife using the new Apple iPad over dinner at the local Sweet Tomatoes. I asked them "What do you think? Do you like this iPad?" We chatted a bit about books and then...it was so amazing to bring up Escaping Danger on the screen ... oh yes, I am bragging, but the technology and convenience is startling - and fun!

I'm putting an iPad on my wishlist.
-Dorothy

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Moving Right Along!

Escaping Danger is now available as an eBook at Xlibris and Sony, Books on Board and Scribd. Negotiations are in progress for Borders.
-Dorothy

Sunday, August 15, 2010

Welcome

Florida author Dorothy Dubel announces her book, Escaping Danger can now be found on ebooks...around the world.

Chapter 58 “There’s No Place Like New York City”

‘One night, dead tired from pounding the streets looking for jobs and food, Steve and Celia decided to spend 25¢ for a single cot in a flophouse on the lower East Side. The vibration of the subway trains seemed to rock the cot and drown out all the other sounds of coughing and snoring around them. There were rows and rows of occupied cots. For safety’s sake, they slept with their clothes and shoes on. They put their one cardboard suitcase under the thin mattress to use as a pillow under their heads – and to keep it from being stolen. Cuddled together on the narrow cot, they fell into a deep sleep.

In the early morning, well rested, Steve stretched, feeling refreshed. Being able to wiggle his toes without having them constricted in his shoes was a relief. Then he realized he did not take his shoes off when he went to sleep! He looked down at his feet. They were bare! While he and Celia slept, someone had cut his shoe laces and removed both shoes during the night. The thief took the money given them as a wedding gift out from under the inside sole lining where Steve had hidden it for safekeeping. Steve never felt a thing! Luckily, the thief was kind enough to leave the shoes under the cot.

Celia still had the few dollars they had left. Untouched, it was pinned inside her brassiere.

Like the rest of the people aimlessly roaming the streets of New York, they were now truly homeless and almost penniless.

Steve was first to get employed. It was a job that paid a couple dollars a week and he gratefully accepted the offer as a valet parking attendant. He parked cars in a private two-story concrete block garage in the city. Speedy service was expected without hope of a tip. Steve ran up and down and all around the garage as the men he dealt with using the exclusive garage were always in a big rush.

“Hurry up! Get the lead out!” he heard often as he ran up the second floor ramp. He never walked. He always ran.

Steve soon realized the building, cars parked there and men who frequented the garage were all Mafia-related. Regardless, a job was a job during Depression, and he was happy to have one but being available 24 hours a day was pretty exhausting. The less he knew about what was going on with their odd comings and goings the better off he was – period. He did not ask any questions

“Wash down this car” he heard as a driver brought his vehicle to a squealing halt beside him.

“Yes sir, right away!” replied Steve grabbing his wash bucket and brushes.

It didn’t matter what time of day or night - no one ever asked. He was told what to do and he did so without questions. Steve learned to wash down and clean cars fast. It was expected. Using good brushes and clean rags he removed bloodstains on the upholstered seating or in the trunk. He hosed away any tell-tale traces of mud from every tread of each tire. Sometimes his fingers were so cold he could hardly bend them.

The winds howled through the drafty open sides of the garage and the leaky open roof top provided little protection from the freezing snow in the winter and rain in the summer. Running through puddles on the open second story, his shoes and socks were constantly wet. His feet were always wet and cold encouraging a chronic foot fungus condition. Unable to afford a pair of boots or another pair of shoes, Steve’s feet suffered more than other bodily aches due to his hard work.

Steve knew he had to find some other kind of work soon but never had any time off to seek it – and the pay was getting better every month. He was now making more money than he could ever imagine and the couple was actually saving money during the Depression.

A perk of the job was that he and Celia were allowed to occupy the tiny windowed valet’s room next to the driveway entrance. If you stood in the middle of it, you could touch both walls, but it was roomy enough for the two newly-weds to occupy at the same time – besides, it had its own bathroom. The gloomy dark garage was a cold and spooky place lit by only a few ceiling light bulbs. In contrast, the crowded valet’s room with its overhead light, tiny wooden table and chair, electric heater, hot plate and cot seemed almost cheerful! Compared with being homeless and in danger of being mugged, living in these close quarters was heavenly.

Another perk was an abandoned late model four-door sedan. Parked near the valet station, it had a rust-free body, good tires and current plates – the only drawback was that it did not run. Tinkering under the hood, Steve worked on it as often as he could, and in the mean time, the couple used it to sleep more comfortably in. No one ever mentioned or asked about its ‘missing’ owner, one of the ‘boys’.