Book cover and blurb
Title: The Age of Amy: Channel ‘63
Author: Bruce Edwards
Genre: Young Adult
What if you could tune your TV to the year 1963, and watch—live? A new theme park attraction allows visitors to not only observe, but talk with the people of that turbulent decade. For 16-year-old Amy, it’s the perfect escape from her own time, and the hardships of teenage life in the 21st century.
Things get complicated when Amy falls for a teenage boy in the 60s. Trying to build a relationship across time proves maddening, especially when computers bleep any language that might impact the future. Happily, Amy acquires a “magic clicker” which defeats this annoying restriction. But gaining the ability to speak freely comes with a heavy responsibility: Amy now has the power to alter history!
She struggles to be mindful of her speech, but finds the temptation to reverse the mistakes of the past irresistible. It is November, 1963 on the other side of the TV screen, and President Kennedy is about to be assassinated. Knowing the details of that tragic event, Amy hatches a dangerous plot to save the 35th president, unaware of the deadly consequences facing her long-ago friend, who must carry it out.
Author Bio
Award-winning author Bruce Edwards is a former Hollywood film animator, and brings the whimsy of a character artist to his stories. A music major in college, he is also an accomplished musician and composer. His other creative endeavors include a stint as a puppeteer and performing magic at Disneyland. Bruce’s thought-provoking books for young adults are never short on fun, fantasy, and imagination.
Links
AUTHOR LINKS
Channel ’63 Music Video
AgeOfAmy.com
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PURCHASE LINKS
Amazon
Barnes & Noble
Powell’s
Publisher’s Store
Book Excerpts
Excerpt #1
Chapter 1
EMANCIPATION
“I quit!” I shouted, my shrill voice echoing through the courtroom. “I resign from this family!”
“Please take your seat, Amy,” said Judge Higgins. “Your theatrics have been noted, but you are in Family Court, not an episode of Law & Order.”
The judge shuffled a pile of legal documents on his tall desk, then set aside the one that prompted the hearing in the first place: Petition for Declaration of Emancipation of a Minor. State law permits minor children, with unresolved parental issues, to leave home and live with someone else. I had filed the papers on my own, with no help from anyone.
What they basically said was that I wanted to be free to live on my own; to be liberated from playing the dutiful daughter; to be released from the grip of my controlling parents. In simpler terms: I wanted a divorce from my family.
It was a bold move to make, especially for a sixteen-year-old.
The August sun shined through the tall windows onto an empty jury box. On this day, no testimony would be given from the witness stand. There were no lawyers, no court reporters, nor spectators in the gallery. The judge didn’t even have a gavel.
My mom and dad sat at a long table normally reserved for high-powered attorneys. I sat at the same table, a few empty chairs down from them. After all, they were the bad guys, not me.
“As to why you are all here,” said the judge, “I have called this hearing to see if this issue can’t be resolved before proceeding further.”
My dad raised his hand and rose to his feet. “What’s the point?” he said. “We are all in agreement in this matter.”
“Absolutely,” added my mother. “Amy wants to move out, and I for one don’t plan to stand in her way.”
“I understand that,” said Judge Higgins, “but before I can issue a ruling, the laws of this state and the Department of Social Services mandate that the court shall first attempt to mitigate the situation, in accordance with Family Code Regulations.”
Legal mumbo jumbo! The “situation” was clear. I no longer wanted to share my life with my parents, and they made no bones about not wanting me around.
Excerpt #2
Chapter 2
Animal Attractions
“So, how’s the lawsuit going?” asked Hubert.
“It’s not a lawsuit,” I said. “I’m exercising my right to be emancipated from my parents. Lincoln emancipated the slaves. Why shouldn’t I have the same privilege?”
“If I had my way, you could move in with my family, but my narrow-minded folks won’t hear of it.”
“That’s okay. I’ll find a place. I’ve just got to get away from my family.”
“Running away is a more accurate description, wouldn’t you say?”
“Whatever. All I know is that I want my freedom.”
“No, you don’t,” insisted Hubert. “You’re thinking of this thing as a form of escape, but it’s not that at all. I have a theory.” (Hubert has theories on everything.) “You’re not running, so much as searching. You’re on a quest to find the perfect family.”
“What’s wrong with that?” I said. “Doesn’t everybody deserve one?”
“Girl, that’s a statistical impossibility. There’s no such thing. You should spend less time looking for a place to run away to, and more time finding out where you belong. You’ve got a good thing going, and you don’t even know it.”
“Not as good as the Cleaver’s,” I said.
“Who are they?”
“You know, the family on those Leave It to Beaver reruns.”
“They’re a fake TV family of the early ‘60s—an idealized version of life that never existed. The real ‘60s were nothing like that. And if you don’t believe me, I know a place you can go to see for yourself.”
Hubert displayed a Theme Farm guide map on his tablet. He tapped the screen and zoomed into an attraction. “Here it is,” he said. “Used-to-Be TV.”
“What’s that?”
“A new attraction. It’s where you go into a room and sit down in front of a TV. You turn it on, but instead of watching a broadcast channel, you watch another time.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” I said. ”How can you watch something live that already happened?
“Apparently, some genius has found a way to capture live video signals from another year, and display them on TVs in the present. You can even talk to people in real time, like talking to a neighbor over a fence, except that you’re here and they’re in the past.”
“That’s pretty cool, but what makes you think I’d be interested?”
“They’re now displaying a signal from 1963!”
That was all I needed to hear. Used-to-Be TV would definitely be my next stop. Imagine talking to someone in the time of Beaver, Opie, and Fred Flintstone.
Excerpt #3
Chapter 3
Used-to-Be TV
The small room was eerily quiet, like I had walked into a sound-proof booth. I was in a cozy living room, surrounded by early 1960s furniture. The soft light of a hanging swag lamp lit up a sunburst clock on a wall, covered in retro-pattern wallpaper. A plaid couch sat in the middle of the room, and in front of it was a vintage, black and white TV.
I sidestepped the coffee table and sat down on the couch. As the TV came on, the screen displayed an old-style TV test pattern, with the words Please Stand By.
I adjusted the couch pillows to get comfortable, and waited to see what would happen next.
The flickering pattern faded to black, and an instant later, up popped a black and white image. A camera in 1963 revealed the inside of a security office, probably in a commercial building. The back wall was covered in white, acoustical tiles. A row of video monitors showed images from surveillance cameras around the premises: an empty parking lot, deserted hallways, an idle, factory assembly line. The only thing moving was the second hand on a large wall clock.
In the center of the frame sat an empty office chair.
A minute or two rolled by.
“Hello?” I said faintly.
Nothing.
The sunburst clock in the cottage had read 12:20 when I first came in. Now it read 12:45—the same hour showing on the wall clock in 1963. Staring at that static image had exhausted my patience.
I got up and started to leave, when I noticed a shadow move across the back wall of the security office. I rushed back to the TV.
“Is there someone there?” I shouted.
The shadow entered the frame again.
“Hey!” I said. “Over here!”
The shadow halted. It was the silhouette of a man. His head turned left and right, as if he had heard a voice—my voice.
“I’m right here!” I cried. “Sit down in the chair so I can see you.”
But the shadow just scratched his head, shrugged his shoulders, then walked out of frame.
I waited for the dark phantom to reappear, but after another ten minutes, I realized that was all I was going to get.
Wow! Did I just have a close encounter with someone in 1963? The very idea had my head spinning. I couldn’t just leave it at that. Maybe if I came back the same time tomorrow, I thought, the mystery man would return as well. It was worth a shot, and with a little luck, I might just experience a real face-to-face encounter.