Sleuthing into the Past
Guest blog post by Julie B. Cosgrove. Whodunnit? My mom used to ask us that with a hand cocked on her hip, peering into our wide-eyed faces. Naturally the blame trickled down to the youngest one, me. Being from a family with four generations of lawyers and legislators, I developed the skill of building my defense before I spoke at a young age. I had to solve the crime so I could plead my innocence. Well, even when I wasn’t quite innocent, building my case often helped. My parents were fair judges. Sometimes I got off with a light sentence. On endless nature walks through the Texas Hill Country, Dad taught us keen observational skills. We learned to detect where a deer had traipsed in the moonlight or a beetle laid its eggs under a fern leaf. I became a keen observer of nature, and later, human nature. So sleuthing is part of my DNA. Though I now absorb mysteries whenever I get the chance, I never could get into Nancy Drew books. I didn't want to read about her and ...