Books with author Ken Murphy

The charming story of a tiny beetle who is able to reach great heights.Redd scurried to the punch bowl for a cool drink. The cups were bigger than he was, but he was too thirsty to care.Redd is small, even for a beetle. He's too small to reach the mailbox, too small to fly, too small even to dance at the famous Boll Weevil Ball. But when Redd sets his mind on something, nothing can stop him. Starring a very small but hugely determined beetle, this charming picture book proves that little people -- or insects -- can do great things.

I never wanted to lie to her, but I knew I couldn't keep her safe if she knew. I hurt her, more than I ever wanted to and I have to live with that each day that I'm away from her. But one day she'll know, that every day spent away from her was hell. Watching her move on. Watching her change. But it will all be worth it once she's safe.Even if she doesn't know it, she is my Rapture.

My first book, "Whoa Yonder!" was about my childhood growing up on the family farm in the 1950's and early '60's. Those years were about as peaceful and idyllic as you can imagine. But this book, "Tomfoolery and Tragedy" is a collection of memories from 1963-1965, when my world suddenly began to tremble. The farm boy had grown into a throbbing 16 year old who was beginning to anxiously respond to the calls of a mysterious, exciting and sometimes dangerous world. Crossing over the bridge between childhood and the rest of my life was a wonderful journey, and a big portion of this book consists of funny and interesting stories drawn from those experiences. For example, girls had my full attention during this time, and I seem to have suffered more misadventures in this category than most young men. I couldn't resist telling several dating stories: wrestling with Betty Sue at the Sunset Drive-in, the surprises Cheryl gave me on my one and only double-date with my older brother, the first time I ever got unlucky with a girl, and the night Angel taught me all about swish-poppa. My girly stories are a little graphic, but I doubt they will arouse any prurient interests in anyone. Graphic or not, they were all big events in this teenager's life. I also felt compelled to share some of the mischief my buddies and I managed to live through. For example, the scary night Tommy and I spent in the almost-empty Colquitt Hotel, the day Wayne and I spent 8 hours in the Folly's Burlesque Hall, or the confrontation Luke and I faced on the sidewalks of Kansas City. At the same time that my personal life seemed to resemble a runaway train, America also appeared to have lost its mooring. The assassination of President Kennedy in November, 1963, rattled every American, young and old. That event, I feel was directly responsible for my brother's decision to join the Marines in January, 1964 . . . the biggest decision he would ever make. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and the historic moments of the Civil Rights Movement during 1963 shook me and my segregated world. Bull Connor's frontal assault on black men, women, and children in Birmingham, the "I Have a Dream" speech in front of 250,000 demonstrators in the Nation's capitol, and the death of four little black girls at the 16th Street Baptist Church in Birmingham would cause waves of change to roll over most Americans, and break down our resistance to racial integration. Nothing has affected my life more than my brother's death in Vietnam in May, 1965. His dedication to duty, and his bravery in that muddy ditch 55 years ago is a story that must be told and retold. In the last chapter, I share hand-written letters from other Marines, and other treasured photos of my hero-brother's last days. Finally, I make an effort to understand what really happened to place our Nation in a long, bloody war halfway around the world. I hammer away on lessons I think were bought with the lifeblood of over 51,000 Americans; soldiers whose lives were not sacrificed in vain if we recognize, remember, and value the lessons learned. It may seem an odd paring of tomfoolery with tragedy, but the foolishness is not worthy of a book standing on its own, and the tragedy is just too much sadness without some relief. I hope my decision to temper one with the other makes both presentations more palatable.