by Lucy Finn
When I was very near the completion of this book, by accident I ran across an article by Tom Birdsong in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette from 2003 titled “Rush of Indian Claims for Casino Rights in Pennsylvania Unlikely.” Again I was a little shaken that the tale I made up out of my imagination was only a hairs-breadth from reality. The article gave credibility to my premise, although my fictional account comes to a different conclusion about the future of a Shawnee casino in Pennsylvania.
Now as to the matter of Scabby Hoyt. Several specific families with hundreds of living members have occupied this rural, nearly untouched corner of Pennsylvania since before the Revolutionary War. These early inhabitants include Pattons, Crispells, Travers, Sicklers, and Hoyts, to name a few. However, all my characters, even supposed members of those families, are entirely fictional, made up from my imagination…except for Scabby. Scabby Hoyt is a neighbor’s cat and his name tickled me so much I just had to make him a villain. I meant no disrespect to any of the above-named families, and certainly not to the original Scabby. May he live long and prosper.
A special thanks goes to Beth and Fred Rosencrans and their son Brady, whose name, personality, and babyhood, including the sulfur poop, were the inspiration for the character of Brady Patton. Thanks also go to my cousins and my sister, Corrine, for contributing their memories and funny stories, versions of which have found their way into Ravine’s life.
Salutations also go to the wonderful and very caring tellers at the bank in Bowman’s Creek.
As for Gene, the genie, I have been asked where such a paragon of virtue can be found. I’m opening a lot of old bottles, but I haven’t located him yet.