When the Crickets Stopped Singing

by Marilyn Cram-Donahue

  The two of them kept it up, but I was more interested in Charles. He was learning to play the ukulele, which was a lot better than practicing his spitting. He strummed some chords and looked right at me when he began to sing.

  Then the full moon shifted among drifting clouds. We both looked up and saw how bright it was. Even when it was partially covered, the light shone through.

  He shifted keys and began to hum. We all picked up the tune and began to sing together.

  By the sea, by the sea,

  By the beautiful sea!

  You and me, you and me,

  Oh, how happy we’ll be …

  I swallowed hard. The August night floated on honeysuckle breath, carrying memories with it. My eyes welled with tears, and one escaped, trickling down my cheek. It went all the way to my chin, where I touched it with one finger.

  The music stopped, and we sat in silence for a little while. Buster curled up next to me and settled down with a sigh. Then the crickets began to sing.

  AFTERWORD

  When the Crickets Stopped Singing takes place in the United States during the latter part of the Great Depression. Although many people were poor in 1939, it was a time of peace. This was not true in Europe. Adolf Hitler was invading Poland, forming an alliance with Italy, and beginning devastating air raids on Britain.

  In the beginning of the story, Angie is thinking about the long, carefree summer days ahead of her when a voice on the radio says, “escalation of the war in Europe … only a question of how long America can stay out of the conflict.” And her response is “But not now. Not here.” She was echoing the general feeling in our nation. To people in small-town America, the war seemed a world away.

  Yet, when Angie goes to the matinee and sees a newsreel showing people being loaded into trucks and carried away, she begins to wonder if Adolf Hitler (or someone like him) could come to her town and try to do the same thing. Would Americans fight him then?

  Why did our country hang back? Why did we hesitate to jump right in and stop the wrongs that were occurring? Was it because we had our own problems? Why did we not join the conflict until the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941? These are questions historians try to explain and the rest of us try to understand.

  By the same token, why did so many of Messina’s citizens turn a blind eye to the activities of Jefferson Clement? How could his actions toward Dodie go so far without anyone noticing? Why did the townspeople of Messina look the other way? Why did they hesitate to believe that there was evil in their midst?

  Today, people speak more openly about predators like Jefferson Clement, and children are taught to tell responsible adults if anyone bothers them or threatens them. Times were different in 1939. A feeling of innocence prevailed in the lives of ordinary people in small towns like Messina. Molestation was a seldom-used word. Citizens dealt with people like Jefferson Clement more quietly. He might be asked to move to another town, for example. This might not have been the right way to deal with the problem, but it was very often the way things were done. In towns like Messina, people liked to think that, although terrible things were happening in Europe, their town was, as Angie’s mother says “… a good place to live—full of good people.”

  Just as Adolf Hitler has become a symbol for an evil that threatened to destroy the world, so does Jefferson Clement symbolize an evil that could stalk the streets of any small town anywhere—an evil that might be harder to recognize in a starched shirt and wearing a red carnation.

  Angie’s problem is clear. She can tell the truth and let Jefferson Clement go free. Or she can tell a lie and send him to jail, which is where she believes he belongs. Do you think she made the right decision?

  Acknowledgments for

  WHEN THE CRICKETS STOPPED SINGING

  First, heartfelt thanks to my wonderful agent, Kelly Sonnack, who read my first draft and recognized its potential. She nurtured me through innumerable rewrites until the story began to speak for itself. Her support kept me going through the tough times.

  Next, I am eternally grateful to Mary Colgan, my editor at Boyds Mills Press, who shared my vision of Messina and led me through the final revisions that illuminated setting, character, and plot. Guided by her expertise, When the Crickets Stopped Singing became the book I wanted to write.

  My critique group listened patiently through chapter after chapter, making suggestions for changes and applauding me when I finally got something right. I might have faltered along the way without you: Rilla Jaggia, Beulah Colvin, Julie Brett, Judy Tschann, Nancy O’Connor, Patricia O’Brien, and Marge Flathers. You are the best!

  Finally, I offer thanks to my daughter, my sons, and their families. They believe in me and tell me so. Margaret and Lyn Rippetue, David and Michael Gunther; Tom and Pam Donahue, Wesley and Daniel Donahue; Michael and Barbara Donahue, Stephen and Brandon Donahue; John and Jana Donahue, Allison and Chris Donahue.

  A Conversation with Marilyn Cram Donahue

  Q: How did you come up with the setting for When the Crickets Stopped Singing?

  A: The settings for all of my books begin with an actual place. But the nice thing about being a writer is that I can change details to better support what happens in my story. For example, when I began to write Crickets, I took a big piece of paper and began to rough-sketch the town I grew up in. I am not an artist, but rough-sketching meant that I could recreate the streets, the sidewalks, the houses—and even some places on the edge of town, like the river and the cliffside where I actually played when I was a child.

  I could choose what I thought was important to the book and leave out things that didn’t matter. In Crickets, I realized that two street names were a problem. In my home town, the business street was really named Palm Avenue because of all the beautiful palm trees that grew there. I changed the name to Main Street because that’s what most small town business streets are called. Then I let Angie live on Palm Avenue. The important thing to remember when you are creating a setting is to make sure it supports what happens to the characters in the story.

  Q: Are there parts of Angie’s personality that are part of your personality, too?

  A: Oh yes! Angie and I have a lot in common. We both love the beach, and I remember searching for moonstones, just as Angie did. There was a boy who helped me collect them, and I remember how happy I felt when he bought me some cotton candy. I also knew someone like Reba Lu, who always wanted to be the leader, and I remember how surprised I felt when I discovered that I could be a leader, too. And I loved the doctor in my small town, just as Angie loves Dr. Thomas.

  Even though I have never testified at a trial, I have often been a juror and observed how people act when they pretend to be telling the truth. This helped me understand how Angie feels when she listens to Mr. Clement tell his lies. Then, when she takes the stand right after Mr. Clement testifies, I felt that I was sitting there with her, wanting to move away from the heat he leaves behind him in the chair. When I work on developing any of my characters, I always try to feel my way beneath the surface until I’m sure who they are. In Angie’s case, it was easy because I felt we were so much alike, and her actions didn’t surprise me.

  Q: When did you realize you were a storyteller, and how does storytelling make you feel?

  A: I come from a family of storytellers—people who were descended from pioneers and wanted to preserve the tales that were told around campfires on the journey westward. I can remember sitting around the table after dinner and listening to my grandparents talk about what happened to their parents in “the old days.” I still remember those exciting tales.

  But I really started telling my own stories when I was in the second grade and so ill that I missed several months of school. An aunt gave me a copy of A Child’s Garden of Verses by Robert Lewis Stevenson, and I lay in bed reading about the land of counterpane. Before long, I was spreading my sheets and blankets into hills and valleys and filling them with miniature people and animals that my mother somehow foun
d for me. Then, of course, the people and animals couldn’t just sit there. They needed to move around, to converse, to have adventures. So I made up stories for them, and they became my first attempt at character development!

  When I start a new book, I am a little nervous at first, asking myself things like, “What makes you think you can write another book?” But, before long, I find myself completely involved in the story. I forget to water the lawn, or clean the house, or return telephone calls. And I keep a good supply of peanut butter in the house because one of my favorite sandwiches is peanut butter, mayonnaise, and lettuce with a glass of cold milk and some potato chips.

  Q: How do you think Dodie’s story ends?

  A: I have thought about this a lot, because I really don’t want her story to end in a hospital bed. She needs a chance to show what she’s made of. There is a glimmer of hope when Angie feels Dodie move her fingers. But a glimmer wouldn’t be enough for a character like Dodie. She is tough, and she is brave, but she is also sensitive in a way that few people beside Angie have seen. What if she opens her eyes? What if she begins the long process of recovery? What if she remembers … or doesn’t remember … everything that happened? What if her story isn’t finished? What if it is just beginning?

  If I decide to write more about Dodie, I will have to do one thing first. I will have to listen for the sound of her voice. She will tell me how she feels and what she wants. Her voice comes first. Then, after I listen to her for a while, I will watch her and let her show me what comes next.

  Q: Tell us about your writing process.

  A: I sometimes create an outline if I am writing a nonfiction piece. But I never outline when I am writing fiction. For me, outlining is restrictive. I love to create a setting, drop a character or two into it, and watch what happens. The results, for me, have always been surprising and rewarding. This setting and these characters may have been meandering around in my mind for a while, but once they hit the paper, they become real for me. As soon as I begin to write, the setting expands and becomes the place where my characters will interact, grow, and change. They talk to each other, form friendships, or become enemies. I listen. I wait for the plot to grow. At this point, I try not to interfere. If something doesn’t work, I will fix it later. But in the beginning, I need this freedom—this letting the characters tell their own stories. Sometimes, a twist of plot will come as a complete surprise to me. This is when I know that I am on the right track.

  MARILYN CRAM DONAHUE is the author of Straight Along a Crooked Road and its sequel The Valley in Between, as well as sixteen other books for children. Marilyn says, “My earliest memories are of words, a gathering of voices that came from a family of storytellers and singers. Their rhythms surrounded me and nourished me. My mother often read aloud to me when I was young, and when she finished a story, she encouraged me to think about what might have happened to the characters after the last page. My imagination soared, and so … I became a writer!” She lives in Highland, California. Visit marilyncramdonahue.com.

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