In the winter months of 1951, my father was shot and killed in the line of duty as an Illinois State Policeman. I was 8 years old, my brother 6. Dad was 32, as was Mother.  Two months later, April 16, was Mother’s birthday. I wrote a very short story at school (3rd grade) and gave it to her for her birthday. It follows, exactly as I wrote it and turned it in. I don’t remember what grade I received….

THE BEAR THAT SMOKED

By Bill Corwin McConkey

April 16, 1951

One day Joe Ball was hunting in bear woods. He met a bear. He turned around and ran as fast as he could. Before long he met the same bear again. He ran real fast this time. Joe and the bear both ran into a bear trap. The pipe that Joe was smoking was in the bear’s mouth. The bear sat there and smoked for a long time.

I don’t know what it means…

Advertisements