Testify: Where Ya From

No matter where you’re at or what you’ve been through you can still reach your destiny. As a kid growing up in rural Spotsylvania County, Virginia, I would sometimes get really sad because the world around me didn’t always match the world in the books I would read and one day hope to write myself. But, at the little country church on the then-dirt and gravel road, I remember listening to the uplifting gospel songs of ‘Ain’t Gonna Study War No More’, ‘This Little Light of Mine’, and listening to the encouraging sermons from Elder John ‘Sonny Boy’ Carter and Elder William Camp (my father). Whether they were preaching behind the pulpit of the Highway Christian Church down on Camptown Road or speaking with you outside in the yard, their words were always positive and encouraging. I have fond memories of my time at this little church. Although no one had a lot of financial wealth, I remember when people would stand up to testify in church, they were so grateful for what they did have. I’m truly grateful for these two men because they, along with my wonderful school teachers, played a big role in keeping me motivated. “A tree without roots will not grow” is a quote from Marcus Garvey, and I certainly will never forget where I came from or those who have had a hand in shaping me. – Randolph Randy Camp Learn more at https://www.amazon.com/author/randolphcamp (Photos: Highway Christian Church, Elder John ‘Sonny Boy’ Carter, Elder William H. Camp, Sr)

Remembering Clayton: "I'm Alright"

Remembering Clayton: “I’m Alright” Staying positive as possible and trying to focus on the bright side of things is a quality we all strive to have. Brother Clayton possessed this quality and he showed it well. What I admired most about Clayton is this: While coping with a medical condition throughout the years, Clayton’s personality would shine brighter than his ailment. Several years ago, Clayton attended a book talk event at John J. Wright Educational and Cultural Center in Spotsylvania, Virginia. After the event I thanked Clayton for coming and then I asked him how he was doing, and he simply replied, “I’m alright.” A couple weeks ago, I found out that Brother Clayton Ellis is now in Heaven. I’ll never forget his special quality, something I’m constantly working on. – Randolph Randy Camp (Photo: December 2017, Book Talk Event at John J. Wright Educational and Cultural Center. Clayton Ellis is seated beside his sister Sherry Ann in the back row. Clayton has on his brown leather coat and wearing a black baseball cap.)

Reflections: Camp Town Road

Never forget where you come from. I certainly won't. Mostly due to the Air Force, I have traveled all over the world. And I even been to Nine Mile, Jamaica (Bob Marley's birthplace). But the place that stays deep within me no matter what is Spotsylvania County, Virginia. This is the place that helped shape me and made me into the person I am today. Ever since I was a little boy, I was always curious about everything. If you grew up anywhere near Fredericksburg or Spotsylvania County, you definitely would've traveled Plank Road. Well, I remember thinking as a kid 'what an odd name for a road.' That curiosity got me digging and turned me into a little research detective. What I learned was that years ago during the days of horse and buggies, they would lay down wooden planks along the dirt road so that the wheels (of the buggies) wouldn't get stuck in the wet mud, especially on the rainy days. Plank Road isn't the only road that sticks out in my mind. The old State Road 715 will be forever engrained in my memory. Long before Camp Town Road was nicely paved, it was a dirt-gravel road lined with lots of honeysuckle bush. This was the old State Road 715, and this is where this little country boy first began to notice things, good and bad. Our house was directly across the road from the Wolfrey family. Although I already had four brothers, it's like I had three more brothers back then because John and Ronald Wolfrey, along with Ronnie Wayne Curtis, were sort of like our brothers too. Us Camp boys didn't have fancy bikes or any expensive toys when we were coming up but both John and Ronald Wolfrey gladly shared whatever nice stuff they had with us Camp boys. My greatest thrill one day was when John and Ronald let us ride their fancy 3-horsepower minibike up and down the long gravel road. I'll never forget that day! That was so much fun! At the far end of the road, Ronnie Wayne lived in a small house with his mother. Ronnie Wayne was like our brother too because he was always looking out for all of us. As a kid I was fascinated with lightning bugs, and I would stay outside sometimes pretty late at night just watching them light up the night sky outside our house. I don't know why I remember Ronnie Wayne's distinctive words and voice when he would be walking by and catch me outside late at night but he would say (in a parental tone) "kinda late for you to be outside, ain't it?" Yep, that was code for 'boy, you betta get yo' butt back inside the house.' By the way, I'm an old man now and I'm still fascinated with lightning bugs (or as some like to call them 'fireflies'). In my book from 2022, Monica A Short Story Collection, the short story 'Heaven' have lightning bugs as central characters. As an adult, I'd visited Spotsylvania County and traveled down Camp Town Road a few times over the years, and about halfway down the road sometimes I would stop and just gaze at the side of the road where a group of honeysuckle vines used to be. You see, that's the spot where I crumbled up a love note and threw it in the bushes one day after getting off the school bus because I was too shy and embarrassed to give it to the girl in my class who I had a crush on during my elementary days. And get this, here it is 2024, and after all these years, the young girl who I had a crush on way back then is today one of my Facebook Friends (I tell ya', life is some'em else, ain't it?) No indeed, I'll never forget where I came from. Whether it's known as State Road 715 or Camp Town Road, I'll always cherish the fond memories from way back then. - Randolph Randy Camp (photo: Ronnie Wayne, his wife Estelle, and me from 2017) Learn more at https://www.amazon.com/author/randolphcamp

Always Learning, always

Growing up and learning from life lessons ain’t always easy. It’s 2023 now, and I’m still learning. Quite a few of my readers had asked me about the Snack Shack and the original piece I’d written entitled ‘MY SPOTSYLVANIA NIGHTS’ about one of my early dating experiences. Here it is again… Last night my mind drifted back to the fall of 1978 when I was 17 years old anxiously diving into manhood. I definitely went through a lot of changes during my last year of high school. I seriously think that 1978 and 1979 were the years that gave me a glimpse of the real world and helped to shape my views and attitude toward women and dating. As in countless towns throughout America, Friday night high school games in Spotsylvania County was the place to be, especially when the Spotsylvania Knights was playing their greatest rivalry, the James Monroe Yellow Jackets, from Fredericksburg, Virginia. During these Friday night games, many of us had our first experiences with the opposite sex and got a bitter taste of reality as we tried to shed our juvenile skin. During my senior year at Spotsylvania High, I would leave school and sometimes go directly to work at the Howard Johnson’s Restaurant in Fredericksburg. While working as a busboy and dishwasher, I’d worked up enough nerve to ask a fairly new waitress out for a date. The first time I saw her I wanted to be with her. During our lunch breaks we would chat and laugh about our high school lives. We made a date to meet up Friday night at the Snack Shack just before the big game between the James Monroe Yellow Jackets and the Spotsylvania Knights. I arrived early at the Snack Shack nervous as hell but looking sharp. This was going to be a big night for me because I truly thought that one of my mannish dreams would be realized. As this particular night unfolded however, I slowly became aware that our hopes and dreams come in many shapes and sizes and that we have to prepare ourselves for the different angles in which things present themselves to us. What I’d initially viewed as an awful experience actually was my most valuable lesson. After waiting for twenty minutes for my date to arrive, the lady behind the Snack Shack service window gave me a look of concern. I instantly looked away, pretending not to notice her look because I was too embarrassed that my date hadn’t showed up yet. The Snack Shack was quiet briefly because the football game a short distance away had started already. From a distance, we could see the bright stadium lights illuminating the dark Spotsylvania sky and we could faintly hear the stadium cheers of the fans. The lady at the counter knew that I was hurting and instinctively knew why I was hurting. She motioned me towards the service window and kindly said, ” You want to eat some fries with me? It’s my break and it’s on the house.” Shame-faced, I shook my head ‘no’ and slowly stepped away. About fifteen minutes later my date still hadn’t arrived. Once again, the lady behind the counter approached the service window with a large order of fries in her hand. She tapped on the window to get my attention. She could easily read the obvious frustration and embarrassment on my face as I repeatedly sighed at the side patio table. She motioned me to come to the window. This time I accepted her offer as she tried her best to cheer me up with stories of her school days and all of the boys who’d stood her up. When it comes to dating, still today, without even realizing it sometimes, I will make my judgments and opinions about potential women in my life not based upon the young lady who’d stood me up, but instead, based upon the beautiful qualities of that wonderful warmhearted lady at the Snack Shack that cool September night. After all these years, I still think about that kind-hearted lady at the Snack Shack and all the changes I went through during my young Spotsylvania nights. – Randolph Randy Camp

Keep The Arts

Promoting and nurturing creativity is always a good thing.


Ever since I was a little boy I used to listen to the songs on the radio so intensely. I was fascinated by the stories and characters within these songs, especially the early songs of artists such as Curtis Mayfield and Bob Dylan.


When I was able to read I would read anything I could get my hands on, books, magazines, Readers Digest, etc. I was amazed at how someone could dream up something in their head, put it on paper and then see it come to life within the comics or in a novel.


One of my favorite classes at Spotsylvania Jr. High was 8th grade Language Arts. We kept a journal that we would turn in weekly and the teacher would give her feedback on it. In the journal we had the creative freedom to jot down our personal thoughts, write poems or short stories, etc. And, looking back now, I think that it was this particular class that really got my mind to open up and let some of the characters I’d been dreaming up out unto the page.


Sadly, across America in recent years, a lot of school districts have eliminated arts education from our classrooms (mostly due to budget issues). This is very unfortunate because I’ve personally experienced and come to know the extraordinary value of these arts educational programs and classes in our public schools. Without a doubt, my 8th grade Language Arts class and other arts-based classes definitely played a big role in cultivating my childhood passion for storytelling and creating my own original characters.


Although science, math and other STEM-related programs are crucial for students nowadays, I hope that school districts that are dealing with low funds and budget issues will find the balance and a way to compromise to keep arts education in their curriculum because I strongly believe that helping students to express themselves in creative ways builds a strong foundation for a productive child and a positive student.


I’m so grateful for all of my teachers during my early years in Spotsylvania County, Virginia, and God bless all of the moms, dads, dedicated volunteers, teachers and educators across the world who are helping kids and students every single day to open their minds and express themselves. – Randolph Randy Camp


More at https://www.amazon.com/author/randolphcamp


(By the way, no, I didn’t create the comic character Harley Quinn. That credit goes to Paul Dini and Bruce Timm.)

Getting Started

Whatever you want to do in life you can do it. I didn’t realize it back then but the seeds of becoming a writer probably were planted years ago in rural Spotsylvania County when I used to sit along the banks of the Rappahannock River and sort of daydream for hours while watching the water flow.


Yep, when I was a little boy I definitely was one of them book nerds who paid more attention to the Rappahannock Regional Mobile Library route schedule rather than caring whether or not if the Washington Redskins beat the Dallas Cowboys on Sunday.


I owe some of my early dedication to a few of my elementary school teachers in Spotsylvania who gave me encouragement, especially when I naively would tell friends and classmates about some of the wild stories and dreams in my head and how the Rappahannock River was like a friend to me. I eventually became a somewhat quiet, shy kid because some of these kids would make fun of me and call me crazy. But I’ll never forget the day when one of my teachers said, “Randy, you’re not crazy, people tend to quickly call anything crazy that they don’t understand, and you’re just crazy about your stories, that’s all, so just start writing them down instead of telling the other kids about them.” Needless to say, I couldn’t stop writing after that.


Today, I’m so blessed and grateful to have readers, followers, and a small-but-growing fan base. Periodically, I would receive emails from aspiring writers from around the world expressing general comments and questions about getting started and copyright protection.


If you’re a budding writer and would like to know more about getting a literary agent, proper novel manuscript format, writing great query letters, or just general questions about protecting your material with the Copyright Office, here are a couple Links that could be helpful:
1. US Copyright Office (https://www.copyright.gov/registration/)
2. Writers Guild of America, East (https://www.wgaeast.org)


Lastly, it might be hard to believe, but it’s actually true that getting started on any or whatever your goals and dreams are can simply start by getting your library card, simple but actually true. – Randolph Randy Camp
More at https://www.amazon.com/author/randolphcamp

Light Your Fire, Dreams Never Die

I absolutely love music. I was one of those kids who not only enjoyed the beat and melody of a song but I also listened intensely to every lyric. During the late 70’s, I’d acquired a huge vinyl record collection. My taste in music was very eclectic. I had albums by Curtis Mayfield, Jimi Hendrix, Fleetwood Mac, Earth Wind & Fire, Stevie Wonder, Bob Dylan, Bruce Springsteen, Bob Marley & the Wailers, etc.


Just like everyone else, during my youth I went through several phases. I wanted to be a writer. I always wanted to play the guitar like Hendrix. At one point during these early years in Spotsylvania County, I had this crazy notion that I was going to share my love of music with others by spinning records at a club and make a name for myself as a popular deejay.
I felt compelled to make good use of my extensive record collection. And especially after listening to Bob Marley’s ‘Natty Dread’ album for the first time, something inside of me told me that everybody in Spotsylvania and Fredericksburg should hear this cool reggae rhythm.


At this time I didn’t have my own car yet, so one night I got a chance to ride in my brother Ricky’s blue Dodge Dart (man, he kept that car so clean!) for the very first time. That night Ricky drove me around through Fredericksburg and Spotsylvania while I pitched my deejay dreams to local club managers. I had this crazy dream that I was going to slowly ease some Marley reggae into my dance mix if I’d gotten the job to spin some records one or two nights a week. I remember this one particular manager in Fredericksburg laughing right in front of me when he struggled to properly pronounce ‘reggae’ for the third time and then said, “We just don’t want that kind of music in here, son.”


No, I never did learn to play the guitar like Hendrix. No, I never did become that popular deejay who would  help spread that reggae vibe throughout Fredericksburg and Spotsylvania County years ago. But, eventually my dream came to fruition as I wrote a novel that currently sells all over the world. And in this particular novel (’29 Dimes’), I’d created a character named ‘Teki’, who fronts an all-female reggae band in Silver Lake, California. During my book talk sessions, many students have expressed to me how Teki was one of their favorite characters of all from my four novels.


Regardless of your age, if there is something you’ve always wanted to do, please light that fire once again and see it come to life. I’m nearly 60 now, and what I’ve learned over these years is that your goals and dreams may shift and possibly take on different forms or shapes, but in the end, the core of your true dreams never really die. – Randolph Randy Camp


More at https://www.amazon.com/author/randolphcamp

12 Eggs

The government shutdown here in America has been going on for over a month now, and a lot of hardworking, good people are hurting financially and struggling to feed their families.


I’m blessed with readers and fans from around the world, and several of them (from overseas) have messaged me recently, expressing how they’re so puzzled that such a developed, prosperous nation as America could allow workers to work without pay while they simultaneously struggle to put food on the table for their kids.


This government shutdown and the emails I’ve received over the past week have triggered my memory bank to the early 70’s when I was a young boy growing up in rural Spotsylvania County, Virginia. For a lot of African-American families in the Southern states there were some good times and, without a doubt, there were certainly plenty of hard times during these years. When times were good, maybe our father would treat the family with a KFC bucket or maybe burgers from Hardees. But, on the other hand, when times were tough, sometimes I went to bed hungry.


One of my fondest childhood memories and one of my greatest life lessons came one evening, in the early 70’s, when our gracious neighbor, Mrs. Peggy Tyler, gave our family a dozen eggs when we didn’t have any food at home. Needless to say, that scrambled egg-dinner our mother had cooked was one of the best dinners I’d ever had, and it’s forever etched in my memory.
From that one simple act of Peggy’s kindness, I’d learned a very valuable lesson that day. I don’t think that you necessarily have to grow up poor to understand what it’s like to be in need, but when you can empathize with those in need, you become a better person and a better human being in general. Who knows, maybe some better decisions could come out of Washington, DC if those in power could empathize more.


As this government shutdown lingers on, I think that I’ll put my own childhood lessons to good use today by going through my kitchen cabinets to see what non-perishable can goods I can donate to the nearest soup kitchen in my area.


Yes indeed, I’m a work-in-progress, still trying to become a better person, and I’ll always be forever grateful for all of my childhood life lessons and, of course, for Peggy Tyler’s humbled blessing of those 12 eggs.  – Randolph Randy Camp


Learn more at https://www.amazon.com/author/randolphcamp

Book Talk Event with Author Randolph Randy Camp

Click the following LINK to read the full article about Writer Randolph Randy Camp return to his hometown for a Book Talk Event in Spotsylvania County on December 9, 2017.  http://www.fredericksburg.com/entertainment/arts/books/locally-born-author-of-young-adult-fiction-to-speak-at/article_8c1415b1-a28b-56ea-b13f-c5a5a20a6391.html

A Sort of Homecoming for Writer Randolph Randy Camp

A sort of homecoming for writer Randolph Randy Camp as he returns for a book talk event in Spotsylvania County, Virginia on December 9, 2017. http://www.fredericksburg.com/news/education/returning-to-his-rural-roots-spotsylvania-native-author-says-his/article_4cb4e727-f8d0-56f5-87f1-58e54122dce2.html

Rappahannock Dreams: A Sort of Homecoming

I was such a weird nerdy kid growing up. When I was thirteen I was briefly admitted to Mary Washington Hospital due to a football injury. I remember this really nice nurse having small talk with me, trying to ease my pain. I’ll never forget the look on her face when she’d asked me, “So, tell me young man, what do you want to be when you grow up? Be a running back or a wide receiver in the NFL?” Without hesitation, I said, “To write a book one day and see it in all the libraries so everybody can read it.” Man, the look on her face. Still today, I smile inside every time I think of her.
As a kid growing up in Spotsylvania County and Fredericksburg, I used to spend a lot of time sitting along the banks of the Rappahannock River. Always equipped with a pen and pad, I would sit and watch the water flow downstream, then jot down my thoughts and dreams. And through the years, those little notes and thoughts I’d jotted down by the river eventually evolved into my published works today.
We’re fast approaching 2018, and it’s been over forty-plus years since I had those Rappahannock dreams. Today, I’m so honored and grateful to the Buffalo & Erie County Public Library in New York, The Public Library of Des Moines, The Central Rappahannock Regional Library in Fredericksburg, Virginia, ect. for having my novels as part of their library book collection. I guess dreams do come true, huh? I sincerely hope that all of your dreams have (or will) come to fruition as well.
And, I’m happy to announce that, in 2 weeks, I’ll be appearing at the John J. Wright Educational and Cultural Center, 7565 Courthouse Road, in Spotsylvania County on Saturday, December 9th, from 10am to 12noon for a Book Signing Presentation Event. *(Go to Facebook Events for details) I would love to see all of my classmates, especially from the (Spotsylvania Sr. High School) Class of ’79, book lovers, readers, friends and loved ones there. Hope you can make it!
More at https://www.amazon.com/author/randolphcamp

Reflections: The Longest Walk

There used to be this dirt road in Spotsylvania County called County Road 715. Years ago this old road ran straight by our house and led to the edge of a paved blacktop where the school bus would pick up me and my brothers, and my cousins who lived on Route 715. Back then it seemed like it was a long walk to the bus stop in the early mornings, but actually it was only about a six-minute walk.


I remember one particular morning walking to the bus stop and I was practicing what I was going to say to this girl that I really liked in my class and had written a ‘Do You Like Me?’ note to the previous night. She sat one row away from me in class and I always liked the way she would run and giggle and say “You can’t catch me!” when we had recess outside. Although I’d carefully written the note and repeatedly rehearsed my lines when I was going to hand it to her, I fell way short of being a romantic Romeo as I got painfully nervous and talked myself out of giving her the note and I never uttered one single word to her that whole entire day at school.


When the bus dropped us off after school that day it was my longest walk ever. I still had that stupid note folded in my pocket, which I’d carried around all day at school. As my brothers and cousins got off the bus laughing and talking about their day at school and their plans for the rest of the evening, I just hung my head down and kicked at the rocks and mounds of dirt in the road as if I was kicking myself in the butt for being so scared, stupid and shy. About halfway down the road I got tired of having that stupid note in my pocket so I took it out, crumbled it up and tossed in the bushes along the dirt road. It’s the year 2017 now and it’s been nearly 46 years since the night I wrote that ‘Do You Like Me?’ note.


Ironically, the young girl who captured my heart back in elementary school is now one of my friends on Facebook (but she doesn’t know that I had a crush on her though). And, by the way, the old dirt road, County Road 715, that I grew up on in Spotsylvania, well today, it’s a paved road and it was renamed Camp Town Road quite a few years ago. – Randolph Randy Camp


More at https://www.amazon.com/author/randolphcamp

Glimmer of Hope

One of my childhood joys was riding my bike through the back roads of Spotsylvania County. Sometimes, my cousins, my brothers and I would ride together. I’ll never forget this one particular summer’s day when I was riding alone. I was slowly pedaling pass a white house with green-trimmed windows. I heard a young voice yell out “Randy! Randy!” From around the corner of the house one of my classmates was excitedly waving ‘hello’. I slowed to a stop and we chatted about how our summer break was going and how we both were wondering who our teachers would be once school starts in several weeks. We were both unapologetic book nerds and the kind of “weird” kids who couldn’t wait to go back to school. Our friendly chat was abruptly cut short when the front door hastily flew open and her angry, red-faced father yelled and ordered her to “Get in the house!”
Growing up as a Black kid in America certainly wasn’t easy. Many people of color could tell you countless stories of walking casually along the country road or city sidewalk and someone yells out a derogatory word from a passing vehicle. When I was a kid I would always wish and hope that things would get better between the races. It seems as though I was always looking for that glimmer of hope.
Nowadays, as I strongly advocate “start with one person at a time”, I wholeheartedly believe that things will get better, and my proof and example of my faith and hope stems from one of many personal life experiences. Remember the young White classmate who I was chatting with on that summer’s day and her racist father told her to “get in the house!”…Well, she had moved away from her racist father and now owns a small independent bookstore near the Virginia-Maryland state line. We still keep in touch, and she proudly has my four books on full display near the entrance of her store, especially ‘Wet Matches’, she says, as it carries the message of “don’t judge anybody.”
We’re in the fall of 2017 and America is seemingly regurgitating history, instead of moving wisely forward and learning from it. My message to everyone (especially to those kids out there who are currently wishing and hoping that things will get better) is to keep doing what you’re doing and please don’t fall into the trap of negativity. There are far more positive people in this world than negative ones, and you’re certainly one of the good ones. And that glimmer of hope for a better world will come from you. – Randolph Randy Camp
More at https://www.amazon.com/author/randolphcamp

Reflections: Sunday Afternoons

I grew up approximately fifty miles in between Washington, DC and Richmond, Virginia in rural Spotsylvania County. America, during the 60’s and early 70’s was experiencing civil unrest and heated racial tensions. Remarkably, in spite of America’s strife during those turbulent years, our Grandparents were able to let us see the sunshine, regardless of the darkness around us. Here’s my childhood reflections on our Sunday afternoons:


There were chickens picking at the red bologna strings in the yard and a whole lot of love on the porch every Sunday afternoon at Ruff n’ Ma’Rie’s. There was an old, rust-spotted Ford sitting in the yard that I’ve never seen moved, not even once, but on Sundays, if you believed the wild stories from Uncle Carl’s and Scootie’s mouths, they had you thinking that that ol’ Ford had them running 208 and the back roads from Spotsy to Fredericksburg just last night! Man, on Sundays you could hear some wild stories.


Yep, on Sunday afternoons, all of my uncles, aunts, and cousins would gather up at Ruff n’ Ma’Rie’s. We all came from them. I never got a chance to thank my beloved Grandparents for what they’ve given us.


Thank you Ruff n’ Ma’Rie for giving us Maitland, who’d left us too soon but gave us the legacy of music and gold with Brenda, Francis, Snookum, Kenny, Jimmy James and Lonnie. Thank you Ma’Rie n’ Ruff for giving us sweet Josephine, better known to us as “Phine”, and let’s not forget your precious gifts of Uncle Roosevelt, Uncle Carl, Uncle Scootie, Aunt Edith Mae, Aunt Ruth Edna, and Aunt ‘Margret’rie’. And I, of course, wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for my Mother, Lorene, who was another piece of gold from your Brook’s tree.


Yes indeed, we all came from you two. So, thank you again Ma’Rie n’ Ruff for those precious Sunday afternoons and for everything you’ve done for us ‘cause we are who we are now, in 2017, because of you and our golden roots. And we’re forever grateful that we all came from you two. Yep, thank you Ruff n’ Ma’Rie for the big juicy strawberries down the hill and all of ‘em wonderful stories and love on the porch.


No matter what you and your family are going through at this time, I hope that you’re able to let some sunshine in, regardless of the dark clouds that maybe lingering above. – Randolph Randy Camp


(photo: Randolph Camp, actual school ID card from 1970’s)
Learn more at https://www.amazon.com/author/randolphcamp

Always Putting Something Back

I’ve cleaned toilets, worked in factories, worked for years within the service industry while simultaneously chipping away at my dream of inspiring and reaching people with my stories. My greatest dream is that my kids, my grandkids, and the future generations go further in life than they ever imagined. I sincerely owe, at least partially, my drive and determination to the public school teachers of Spotsylvania County, Virginia, for all of them helped shaped me into the person I am today. I am so blessed to receive letters of questions and thank you’s from readers from around the world, but whenever someone from my hometown sends me an email or message of thanks, regarding one of my stories, it instantly reminds me of the summer of 1979. Of all of the scripts, novels, blog posts, and articles I’ve written over the years the one that I will always be the most proud of is the article I wrote 38 years ago:


(At age 18, I wrote a “LETTER TO THE EDITOR” which was published in the local newspaper FREDERICKSBURG FREE LANCE- STAR on June 5, 1979)


PUT SOMETHING BACK, GRADUATES URGED
To the Editor:
I am a senior at Spotsylvania High School and will be graduating in a couple of weeks. This year many seniors from our area high schools will be going away to colleges and trade schools to become professionals in the business world and other fields. I hope that many of us will return to this area to put our skills and special training to work. We must not forget where we come from or those who helped us to get where we are (or will be). I can’t speak for every senior, but I have taken something very valuable from this area, and I feel that I must put something back to show my appreciation. I am speaking of education. I have learned that a person should give if he or she has received. I hope that the class of ’79 will join me in the future to reimburse our hometown.
RANDOLPH CAMP
Spotsylvania


Learn more at http://www.goodreads.com/randolphcamp

Hazel Hill Morning

After I bought my first car, a ’72 Pinto, I loved the freedom of going to Fredericksburg whenever I could. Don’t get me wrong, growing up in rural Spotsylvania County in the 70’s had its benefits, but going into town was a big deal back then, especially for this young Virginia country boy. Two of my aunts, Edith Mae and Ruth Edna, had moved into the Hazel Hill Apartments in Fredericksburg, and it was such a treat for me to visit them when I wasn’t in school or was off work, usually on Saturday mornings.
Back then, as a somewhat nerdy schoolboy with big dreams, I was fascinated with getting away for awhile, going to Hazel Hill and then later going to the city park where I would sit alone by the Rappahannock River and write down some of my deepest thoughts. Today, in the middle of April 2017, I still find myself blushing whenever I see my book ‘Wet Matches’, knowing that it had its origin as a simple song lyric way back in 1978 and was conceived on that one particular Hazel Hill morning. – Randolph Randy Camp
More at https://www.amazon.com/author/randolphcamp

Finding Beauty

Nowadays, in this sometimes chaotic, unpredictable world, it's becoming increasingly harder and harder to find something.....anything in our daily lives that puts a smile on our faces. On my birthday I got lucky and found some beauty today.


A few minutes ago I took a break from my next manuscript and checked my Facebook page. I saw a post from one of my elementary school classmates who I'd had a secret crush on some 46 years ago at Robert E. Lee Elementary in Spotsylvania County, Virginia. She never knew I had a crush on her, and to this very day, I refuse to reveal to anyone who this lady is, but every time I see one of her updates or posts online it instantly puts a big ol' country smile on my face. (I find it fascinating that after all of these years this young girl who I'd dreamed about in elementary school and wrote letters to, but never had the courage to give them to her, is now one of my Facebook friends.)


From the bottom of my heart, Thank You all for your wonderful birthday wishes, and I sincerely hope that all of you also find some beauty in the simple things in this sometimes complicated, negative world of ours. - Randolph Randy Camp


(Photo: Recent birthday gift from one of my daughters, Randie)


More at https://www.amazon.com/author/randolphcamp

Valentine's Lessons

Of all the life lessons and love lessons I’ve experienced over the years there’s one that truly stands out. I originally wrote about it awhile back in a post entitled ‘My Spotsylvania Nights’. It was the late 70’s and I was 17 years old, hastily diving into manhood. This particular September night would change my life forever, as it gave me a glimpse of the real world and helped to shape my current views about women and dating. Here’s the original post:


As in countless towns throughout America, Friday night high school games in Spotsylvania County was the place to be, especially when the Spotsylvania Knights was playing their greatest rivalry, the James Monroe Yellow Jackets, from Fredericksburg, Virginia. During these Friday night games, many of us had our first experiences with the opposite sex and got a bitter taste of reality as we tried to shed our juvenile skin.


During my senior year at Spotsylvania High, I would leave school and sometimes go directly to work at the Howard Johnson’s Restaurant in Fredericksburg. While working as a busboy and dishwasher, I’d worked up enough nerve to ask a fairly new waitress out for a date. The first time I saw her I wanted to be with her. During our lunch breaks we would chat and laugh about our high school lives. We made a date to meet up Friday night at the Snack Shack just before the big game between the James Monroe Yellow Jackets and the Spotsylvania Knights.


I arrived early at the Snack Shack nervous as hell but looking sharp. This was going to be a big night for me because I truly thought that one of my mannish dreams would be realized. As this particular night unfolded however, I slowly became aware that our hopes and dreams come in many shapes and sizes and that we have to prepare ourselves for the different angles in which things present themselves to us. What I’d initially viewed as an awful experience actually was my most valuable lesson.


After waiting for twenty minutes for my date to arrive, the lady behind the Snack Shack service window gave me a look of concern. I instantly looked away, pretending not to notice her look because I was too embarrassed that my date hadn’t showed up yet. The Snack Shack was quiet briefly because the football game a short distance away had started already. From a distance, we could see the bright stadium lights illuminating the dark Spotsylvania sky and we could faintly hear the stadium cheers of the fans. The lady at the counter knew that I was hurting and instinctively knew why I was hurting. She motioned me towards the service window and kindly said, ” You want to eat some fries with me? It’s my break and it’s on the house.” Shame-faced, I shook my head ‘no’ and slowly stepped away.


About fifteen minutes later my date still hadn’t arrived. Once again, the lady behind the counter approached the service window with a large order of fries in her hand. She tapped on the window to get my attention. She could easily read the obvious frustration and embarrassment on my face as I repeatedly sighed at the side patio table. She motioned me to come to the window. This time I accepted her offer as she tried her best to cheer me up with stories of her school days and all of the boys who’d stood her up.


When it comes to dating, still today, some 39 years later, without even realizing it sometimes, I will make my judgments and opinions about potential women in my life not based upon the young lady who’d stood me up, but instead, based upon the beautiful qualities of that wonderful warmhearted lady at the Snack Shack that cool September night.


I’m approaching 56 now, and after all these years, I still think about that kind-hearted lady at the Snack Shack and all the changes I went through during my young Spotsylvania nights.  Happy Valentine’s Day, Everyone! – Randolph Randy Camp


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Spotsylvania Dreams

We're fast approaching 2017 and Christmas is just a few days away. A lot of us are still filled with anxiety and uncertainty as we observe so much trouble in the world and watch top governments change hands. One of the hardest things to do is to maintain a positive outlook in the midst of negativity. I've always used my childhood memories and dreams to get me through some of my most bleakest periods.


In the midst of this cold, wintry day, I sit at my kitchen table and begin to reminisce how certain books and stories warmed me up and gave me enough hope to believe that things will get better. As a kid, one of my brightest days came on a journey through Snell, a section of rural Spotsylvania County in Virginia.


Growing up with limited resources, we made good use of the discarded items people had thrown away at the dump in Snell. During the summer break from school, my brothers and cousins would sometimes make a day trip going to the County landfill. Sometimes we would walk and at other times we would ride our bikes. If we were lucky, we would stop by the Finney and Daughters Store in Snell and would pool our money together and buy a bag of Wise potato chips and a bottle of NeHi soda for the whole group to share. Man, those were the days!


I'll never forget this one particular day at the dump when I found not only a fancy banana seat for my bike but also something else that have had a profound impact on my life as a writer. After finding the banana seat, I continued scrimmaging through the pile of recently-dumped items at the edge of the landfill. My eyes widen in awe at the familiar blue train! Yep, the blue train on the cover of the popular book 'The Little Engine That Could'. When I'd excitedly pulled the book from the pile, I noticed that the cover was a bit faded and torn around the edges and that most of the pages inside were heavily marked up with crayon or ripped out. Although the book wasn't in mint condition, I was smiling cheek to cheek, thinking that it was my best day ever! Ever since I first heard the story 'The Little Engine That Could' during story time at Robert E. Lee Elementary School, it touched a certain nerve in me and ignited the spark and gave me the courage to become the writer I am today.


As I'm getting older now, I've noticed that my childhood memories and dreams have become much more vital to me. It's these Spotsylvania dreams that keep driving me and giving me hope. Have a Merry Christmas and a Very Happy New Year, Everyone! - Randolph Randy Camp


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The Journey



Sometimes we let others discourage and derail us. Growing up in rural Virginia years ago, I found a sense of adventure and escape within the pages of various books. Yep, even back then I knew that I was a book nerd, and I was certainly teased and ridiculed for it.

When I was young, I absolutely loved reading stories and books about different cultures. I was so fascinated with the Aborigines of Australia and their 'walkabout' ritual (whereby a boy transitions into manhood) that I wanted to experience my very own walkabout here in America. So, at age 15, I up and left my country roots in Spotsylvania County and went on a 'rite of passage' journey. My adventurous journey came to an end in the big city of Philadelphia, in which the juvenile court system there classified as a 'teen runaway' case.

When I was detained at the juvenile detention center in Philadelphia, I remember the intake worker making fun of me to her coworker who was sitting nearby when I'd quickly answered with a no-nonsense expression "I was on my walkabout" when she'd asked with a puzzled face, "Why did you runaway to Philadelphia?" The moment the intake worker heard the word 'walkabout' leave my mouth, she instantly shot her coworker a twisted look as both of them burst into laughter. Still today, I vividly remember that intake worker's look. It was the same look I got from some folks years ago when I used to tell them that I was going to write my own book one day. It was a look that said that I must be crazy...a mental case...just another dreamer.

In contrast, about a year ago, I got a completely different look. It wasn't a condescending look that questioned my mental state, but a look that was of sincere admiration. Just before I'd moved to Iowa in 2015, at a New Jersey book signing event, a young lady approached me and quietly commented, "Mr. Camp, I love the titles of all your books. How do you come up with titles like '29 Dimes' and '...Then The Rain'?" When I explained to the young lady that my stories and novels are usually metaphoric mirrors of my life and my walkabout journey to Philadelphia specifically was the inspiration behind my second novel '...Then The Rain', she immediately smiled and gave me one of those genuine looks of surprise.

In spite of others' ridicule and condescending laughter, don't ever let them discourage you from your goals and dreams. Let your heart guide you and keep you on track. - Randolph Randy Camp

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