I’m currently editing my grandfather’s, Joseph Glenn Cheedle’s, diary from 1915 along with the letters he received from his family that year.

He graduated from high school, went to Hutchinson, Kansas to pick fruit for low wages among the bedbugs and the heat and the flies baked into the food. He did this to help out his family, and he made $200 in three months. He was eighteen.

I never knew my grandpa; he died when I was four. But I do know how much he and his parents, and his cousins, seemed to really value integrity and sincerity. Honesty. Acceptance and tolerance when people do awful things.

I hope this turns out to be a readable book.

secg