Steve and family visit the wolves of the Seacrest
Wolf Preserve in Chipley,
Florida. Please help and support the Seacrest wolves
by adopting a wolf at
www.seacrestwolfpreserve.org
My
mother, Lily, had me at Marleyborne Hospital in
London, England, at 11o’clock in the morning
on November 8, 1952. My father, William Swinburne,
worked on trains delivering mail to faraway places
all over England. I think that’s where I
get my love of trains. I was the middle kid—my
brother, Peter was a year older, and my sister,
Madeline, a year younger. We lived at 7 Wolsey
Road in north London, a poor neighborhood of attached
brick houses, narrow streets and endless chimneys
poking the sky. During World War Two, a bomb from
a German plane made a direct hit on the only pub
on our street. One person was killed and the pub
was rebuilt into a new pub called The Lady Mildmay.
My
best friend on 7 Wolsey Road was a kid named George.
Mom considered him scruffy and nasty. She called
him Dirty George. I was dubbed Wiff. It seems neither
of us cared much for soap and water. When we weren’t
mucking about the streets, we fought other neighborhood
kids. Sometimes we’d chuck stones at each
other. Once, a well-thrown stone split open my
upper lip.
When
I was almost 8, we moved from England to America.
Mom, Peter, Madeline and I boarded the Queen Elizabeth
in Southampton in southern England on April 20,
1960. We landed in New York City five days later.
Southampton was the same port the Titanic departed
from on April 10, 1912. They hoped to arrive in
New York City on April 15, but the ship struck
an iceberg at 11:40 p.m. on April 14, 1912 and
sank almost 3 hours later.
I
remember two things about our passage on the Queen
Elizabeth: sitting in the swanky dining room
being served by waiters in their crisp white uniforms.
I looked down at the table setting and saw a100
knives, forks and spoons. Which ones did I use
first? The other memory that stands out was when
we were docking in New York City. My mother held
my sister in her arms and stood at the rail, leaning
over, searching for my father along the wharf.
When the ships horn blasted behind us, my mother
jumped nearly spilling my sister into New York
harbor fall below. What a welcome that would
have been!
Age
8 to 17 was a blur of moving houses (my dad liked
to switch houses every 2 years), new schools, new
friends and fights with my brother and sister culminating
in my parents divorce in 1970. All those years
I took refuge in listening to The Beatles and writing
in journals. I remember yanking the bed sheets
over my head, flipping on a tiny flashlight and
scratching words into 5-cent journal. I’ve
kept journals and dairies all my life and think
it’s a great place to fall in love with words.
Growing
up, I wanted to be an adventurer (whatever that
is!) or a naturalist or marine biologist. Ever
since I can remember, I’ve put words on paper
and I feel so fortunate to make a living writing,
exploring new places, learning about the amazing
creatures we share this planet with.
 
I
still would like to be an adventurer or marine
biologist. One day. And I think a rock star would
be kind of cool, too.
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Steve
Swinburne was born in London, England. When
he was 8, he left England with his family
and sailed on the Queen Elizabeth to New York
City.
Steve holds a bachelor of arts degree in biology
and English from Castleton State College, Vt.
He has worked as ranger in a number of national
parks.
He loves to travel and observe nature and wildlife.
A safari in Africa, hiking in Scotland, monitoring
sea turtles on a Georgia island, a winter trek
through Yellowstone and watching shorebirds
in New York have all led to book projects.
He lives in South Londonderry, Vermont, with
his wife Heather and daughters Hayley and Devon.
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When Steve is not writing and photographing children's
books, he loves to sing and play Beatle songs on his
Gibson guitar, garden, read, travel with his family
and take pictures.
Steve's photography has appeared in magazines such
as COUNTRY JOURNAL, VERMONT LIFE, GARDEN DESIGN, FAMILY
FUN and HIGHLIGHTS FOR CHILDREN.
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