Deborah Amos
Bio
I have a B.A. in Communications Studies. Founder, Director of TAYS Intl. Writing is my passion. My first book is called, Amazing Mae. I am currently working on my second and third .book.
Stories (5/0)
Wild About Food
When I read this challenge, Bedtime Stories, I knew I was all in for this one. As you can see my photo cover is one of my favorite children books. Where The Wild Things Are, by Maurice Sendak has inspired a movie, an opera, song, and the imagination of generations. I just realized that this book was written the year I was born. No wonder I love it so much. This book has won the highest award a children's author can receive called, Caldecott Medal. I will come back to this most popular book of all times after I share a little about my other two top favorite children's books.
By Deborah Amos3 years ago in Education
Little Mae
The year was 1941; she was only five-years old when her father died. Clement Lee Walton was a short, brown-skinned man with little to no hair on his head. His nose and lips were big and wide and the muscles on his arms and legs were huge from a lifetime of hard labor. Clement was a good, decent man and a loving father to his baby girl Mae Ida. Mae had long smooth black hair. She wore three large braids in her head. Two braids in the front covered her small ears. She had one crooked braid in the back. She had a nose like her father's but not as noticeable. Her skin was brown and soft like chocolate. Her eyes were a beautiful shade of dark brown.
By Deborah Amos3 years ago in Families
Building T.A.Y.S.
When I think of a builder, I think of someone who possesses a great deal of patience. If you're building a house or any structure, a foundation must be laid. A house or a building can't be built overnight. It takes time, and so does building people takes time and patience. I am a people builder. I am a woman builder. This is my passion. It fulfills me!
By Deborah Amos3 years ago in Viva
Mama's Miracle
The date was March 23, 2008, Easter Sunday. It didn't feel like Easter. It will be another hundred years before Easter comes in March again, so I was told. While I was getting ready for church, I was listening to the Sunday morning preacher on T.V. This preacher mentioned that his mother went to be with the Lord twenty-five years ago on Easter. At that moment, I thought about my mother in the nursing home.
By Deborah Amos3 years ago in Families
