The Little Orphan Coyote

Lansing Becket Bryan

Box 2

My sister Lansing was 8 and a half years old when she began writing poetry and short stories for school. Dad was impressed enough with her work that he shared them with friends.
I want to take this moment to share with Lansing and my readers the pride Dad felt about her creativity:

From two letters to Peter Neill

January 11, 1973

The children are due home from school in any minute. Lansing wrote the most beautiful poem yesterday Not just paternal pride, either. It was quite dazzling complete with repeated last line.


February 28, 1973

I will close with a short story written by Lansing. The only help I gave her was making sure when she wrote "he" we knew who "he" was:

The Little Orphan Coyote

Once there was a beautiful, beautiful mountain and there was a coyote. He was a month old and his mother had died at 23 and his father at 28. One day the sun came out and the mountain looked just beautiful when the sun came out. So the orphan coyote went out hunting some mice. He was too young to hunt deer and big things. After he hunted down the mice he ate them and he went and took exercise with his friend. And then he asked his friend if he could live with him, And his friend said he would have to check with his mother and father. So he did. And his mother and father said No. But at night his friend packed his suitcase, his toothpaste and all the things he needed and went to live with his little orphan coyote friend. And they were never lonely again.

I never did find that poem, but you can see what I mean about her ability to write. It's very exciting."

Godspeed Manatee

Dad was the master of The Godspeed Manatee which "has only one flaw: it sinks". It also stank of sea water and diesel fuel and was, thanks to a chugging one-lung engine, by far the loudest and most trouble-prone boat in the Guilford marina. And yet in Dad's eyes this distant relative of The African Queen was a yacht. A vessel for pleasure cruises with his very best friends. Not that she wasn't diffilcult at times:

From a letter dated November 14, 1972

"Ugh. I took it out last weekend and it took me 45 minutes to get the damned thing to start. My fingers are raw and blooded. I shall now do the same to them with the bilge pump."

February 6th 1973

"The Manatee continues to float and start on the first turn. Took her up the river last Saturday ( toop-toop-toop). I think it's the camel urine in the gas tank."

September 24, 1973

"I got a call from Dr. Gilbert, the dentist with the other one-lung engine, the other night who said the Manatee was sinking. Well, although it did have one hell of a lot of water in it, I did bail it out and it floats high, dry, ran the engine and it's fine."

I believe Dad finally sold the Manatee for $500 around 1980.