|Sometimes I Think I Hear My Name
Too many questions . . .
It wasn't that thirteen-year-old Conrad didn't like living with his aunt and uncle in St. Louis. It's just that his mother and father both lived in New York and he hadn't seen them lately. And he had a few questions he needed to have answered. That's how Conrad happened to spend the strangest week of his life in New York City with a girl he hardly knew—and getting more answers than he had questions . . . about his parents, himself, and what real families are all about.
Behind the Book
One day my eighth-grade son came home from school and told me a story. It seemed one of his friends lived with his grandparents. During spring break the boy had wanted to visit his divorced parents—who lived elsewhere. But his grandparents—according to my son—said he could not. Instead, they sent him to a special one-week sports camp. “Why,” asked my son, “didn’t they let him see his parents?” Not aware of the situation, and not in a position to ask more, I could give no answer and thus could not explain the situation. That said, I did think about it—a lot. Out of those thoughts came Sometimes I think I Hear My Name, one of the saddest books I have ever written. Years later I would meet my son’s friend. We got to talking about that time, and what had in fact happened. My “fictional” guesses were not very wrong.