If you are a fan of historical classics in the likes of Pearl Harbor, Titanic, The Grapes of Wrath and Gone With the Wind, you will want to add Tales by the Glow of the Tiffany Lamp to your shelf of classic reading. It is strewn with a father's golden memories of adventures, romance, struggles and accomplishments, experienced as he grew from a boy to a young man during the era of The Great Depression. All of this interlaced with the ever present help of his loving wife and unwavering effort of his daughter to bring these stories to life. Journey with the daughter through these captivating moments, while she moves closer toward the goal of completion amongst her busy work schedule and receives inspiration through the accomplishments of her own children. A QUEST FOR TREASURED MEMORIES By CONSTANCE TAYLOR Trafford Publishing Copyright © 2013 Constance Taylor All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-1-4907-1471-4 CHAPTER 1 A SEED IS PLANTED We know not from whence our deepest desires are born, only thatthey do exist and keep returning to our innermost thoughts,urging action toward some form of fulfillment. I don't rightly know where or when my desire came to be for takingon the task of writing this novel. I only know that somewhere amongthese first pages of the book a seed was planted, a seed that lay dormantfor many years after my childhood but then sprouted into a wonderfulbranch of adventure and intrigue. Memories of the not-so-distant past return to my mind, a little hazy,in the likeness of an old home movie. It is a hot August day in 1963when our family car pulls into the pebbled driveway of a small cottagesituated near a silvery lake in upper Michigan. "Let's get the girls in for a swim in that nice cool water," my fathersuggests to my mother as he strips down to his swimming trunks.My father is a slender young man with a slightly receding hairlineand a sparkle in his eyes that emanate the look of a quest for fun andadventure. As mother holds a towel high, my sister, Crystal, and I changeinto swimwear. We run to meet father on a squeaky wooden dock thatconnects the cottage property to the shimmering lake. "Now, don't forget that Nibblers, the monster, lives in this lake!"father reminds us. Suddenly Crystal and I have bellies filled withbutterflies, anxious to flee from the scary sea monster. Mother glances up at the sky. Her knee-knocker shorts and bobbedhairstyle with soft loose curls blow gently in the breeze. She is the perfectpicture of beauty and practicality all at once. "The clouds are rolling in quickly, Hans," she informs my father."We really should unload the suitcases first." But the gentle rippleof small waves against the old wooden dock was much too inviting tochange course now. "Just one quick dip," father insists as he helps Crystal to slide downinto one of the inner tubes he had just finished inflating. "Don't worry,girls—I'll protect you from Nibblers." "C'mon, Coral," he then motions to me. "You're going to likeswimming in this nice cool water." My mother helps to position me into the second inflated inner tube.She then sits on the dock so she could cool her feet in the water whileshe splashed and played with us. I paddled my feet and turned the inner tube with my arms butcouldn't find father. Suddenly I felt something touching and holding myfeet. Shrieking, I kicked free only to see my father's head pop up out ofthe water. "What's wrong, Coral?" he asked innocently as he wiped water fromhis eyes. "Did Nibbler's babies get your feet?" After that initial scare,Crystal and I both knew if we saw father's head disappear beneath thewater, we could expect to have our feet captured. We took turns gigglingand screaming. Soon we began to see and feel droplets of water that were not theresult of splashing. And the gentle breeze had evolved into a light windwhich began to gust at times. "Oh-h, dog-gone-it!" mother exclaimed as she helped father to getus safely out of the water. "I knew we should have unloaded our suitcasesfirst!" We all ran for the cottage now, with wet sandy feet, since the rainhad started so suddenly. Mother ran through the cottage searching forblankets to warm us and a broom to sweep the soiled floor. "Wrap up in these, girls," she suggested and went about helping todry us with some woolly blankets she had found. "You'll have to bundleup in these blankets just until we can get your dry clothes out of thesuitcases. I don't want anyone catching a chill." Father tried to console mother while she was wrapping a warmblanket around his own shoulders, but it was useless at this moment. Hefound an old newspaper and worked crossword puzzles with Crystal andI to pass the time. "My family used to go on vacation at Matterhorn State Park," hetold us as we searched for words. "We played behind sand dunes thereand had lots of fun." With everything back in order, Crystal and I said our prayers andwere tucked into bed. As mother sipped on a cup of warm tea, my fatherput a gentle arm ove