A Few Thoughts
A Few Thoughts July 2026 “If it’s with doing, it’s worth doing right—especially if it’s for God.” “Not all who wander are lost.” Ellen Iles on the Wild Azalea Trail. Kisatchie National Forest near Valentine Lake.
Gratitude . . . and much more
Gratitude, “Lord you’ve given me so much. I ask for one more thing: a heart of gratitude.” I try to think of it daily.
My Grandfather and his hog dogs. A reminder of where I come from.
My grandfather Lloyd Iles with his hog dogs. Dry Creek, Louisiana about 1967. I come from good, rooted rural people. One of my life goals is to never forget where I come from. That’s the theme of my short story collection, Where I Come From.” There’s always more at The Creek. Visit our blog at www.creekbank.net. You can glean through over 17 years of blog posts.
D-Day +82 June 6, 2026
D-Day + 82 Operation Overlord, the Allied invasion of Nazi-held France, was an event that changed World History. I’m going to see the new movie, “Pressure,” today. It’s the story of the turmoil behind choosing the right weather and conditions to cross the English Channel. This is what leadership looks like. General Eisenhower speaks to paratroopers of the 101st “Screaming Eagles” Airborne Division prior to D-Day on June 6, 1944. It’s one of my favorite photos of all time. I’ll be adding D-Day and 101st Airborne information throughout the day. Our YouTube posts, books, blog posts, and newsletters are all accessible in the top menu at www.creekbank.net Order your copy(s) of One Night in Winterset and Uncle Sam at Amazon/Curt Iles Books. There’s always more at the Creek. www.creekbank.net The Mission of Creekbank Stories is to share moving stories that encourage and inspire.
A Rainy Thursday
The Memoirs of Pearl Stockwell Iles. ell
These are the memoirs of my grandmother, Pearl Stockwell Iles. Overview of the life of Pearl Iles Preface by Bill Iles Page 1 Page 2 Page 3 Page 4 Page 5 Page 6 Page 7 Page 8 Page 9 Page 10 Page 11 Page 12 Page 13 Page 14 Page 15 Page 16 Page 17 Page 18 Page 19 Page 20 Page 21 Page 22 Page 23 Page 24 Page 25
May 2026
May 2026 Quote of the week: The true measurement of a man is how he treats someone who can do him absolutely no good.” -Samuel Johnson
The Falcon
“The Falcon” is from our third short story collection, Wind in the Pines, published in 2004. It’s still in print on Amazon. The Falcon My Daddy had a wonderful sense of humor. You had to know him well to be exposed to how he loved making fun of everything. He could really surprise you at times. We had an old 1963 Ford Falcon that had been passed around in our family. It had once been blue, but by about 1980, it was more rusty primer than blue. It was a small car, good on gas, low on glamour, and had the odometer “had rolled” over several times at 99,000 miles. I remember when my parents told my sister, Colleen, she could take it to college for a few weeks. She refused, even though it meant walking and getting rides. She said she didn’t want to be seen driving anything that looked that bad. My youngest sister, Claudia, shared it with my mom. We razzed little sister about having a car to go to school in when we, older siblings, had to ride the bus as students. But having the Falcon in the high school parking lot meant a lot of good-natured laughter from your peers, so I guess it wasn’t too much of a prize. it often lost its brakes, among other things. Even though the Falcon was ugly, it was a driving machine. It had good acceleration, and with the wind blowing in through the open windows (no AC in the Falcon), you felt as if you were going much faster than you actually were. I’m not sure when or why Daddy decided to sell the Falcon, but he got creative with his ad. In that issue of the Beauregard Daily News, he placed this ad: My parents said the phone rang off the wall that evening. Daddy sold it quickly to a boy from Singer, which I thought was pretty appropriate. It was a country car and deserved a country owner. Years later, men still come up, get their wallet out, and hand me a tattered newspaper clipping. Grinning, they will comment, “Do you remember when your dad put this ad in the paper?” I always assure them I remember it well. If anyone has a photo of the Falcon, I’d give part of my inheritance to have a copy. “The Falcon is from my 20024 book, Wind in the Pines, still available on Amazon (with updated cover.)
The Best Part Of Writing And Living: Relationships
Re-post from August 2009 Pray for Adam Terry as he fights his way back from leukemia and its treatment effects. The Best Part of Writing and Living: Relationships Shown above is my nephew Adam Terry. He’s showing off a copy of “God’s Timing” a poem I wrote. (See end of blog for reprint of poem) Adam is congressional aide for Rep. U.S Congressman Rodney Alexander. He and and his wife Jenny live in the Washington D.C. area and are faithful followers of my blog. DeDe and I are extremely proud of them. Also shown in one of my “daughters in the Lord,” Evan Adams. Evan and her partner in crime, Hailey Guidry, traveled with DeDe and I to South Africa in 2008. Both of these “African Queens” are going back for a month of orphanage work after their HS graduation in 2010. If you’d like to support their trip, I can put you in contact with them. Evan helped recently at Books a Million on cover ideas for A Good Place. You can see the result below. Click on image for larger view Special thanks to Chad Smith at The Touch Studios for this great cover. * God’s Timing is Always Right God is very seldom early But He’s always right on time. When the need must be met by midnight, He’ll supply at 11:59 Just as Moses stood in the water At the edge of the Red Sea, God waits until the very end To supply our every need. If you wonder why He has this habit Of waiting till the end, He does it to remind us He’s the one on whom we must depend. For if we worked it out early And provided in our own strength, We’d think we all did it And not realize it was from Him. All God really wants from us Is to trust Him everyday And to always say, “Thank you” As He directs us along life’s pathway. Yes, God is very seldom early, But I’ve never seen Him late. In faith we can completely trust Him To meet our needs in His own time . . .and His own way.
Our Annual April Fool’s Edition
Our Annual April Fool’s Edition I love April Fool’s Day. I’m an unreformed prankster. I’ve pulled some fine pranks on April 1, and just as importantly, I’ve had a multitude of pranks pulled on me. Don’t dish it out if you can’t take it. The following is one of my favorite April Fool’s stories: Of all the teachers I worked with over the years, Glenda Hagan will always be one of my favorites. She taught her entire career at East Beauregard, where she shaped two generations of English students and contributed greatly to our school’s unique culture. She loved pranking but was also one of the most gullible people, which made her so much fun to be around. On this particular April Fool’s Day, I was the assistant principal in our K-12 school. I had my two unindicted co-conspirators, Carolyn and Bonnie, call her during her planning period. “Mrs. Hagan, you have a call at the office.” I peeked from behind my office door when she came in. Carolyn handed her the slip I’d carefully prepared: Mr. Fox Alexandria (318) 441-6810. Glenda took the note. “Who is Mr. Fox?” Carolyn shrugged as Bonnie stuck her head around the door. Glenda held the note to the light, “I don’t know any Mr. Fox in Alexandria.” Finally, Glenda Hagan dutifully picked up the phone and dialed (318) 441-6810. A cheerful voice answered, “Good morning, Alexandria Zoo.” Glenda Hagan paused. “Uh, I have a note to call Mr. Fox.” There was a long silence. “Ma’am, this is the Alexandria Zoo. It’s April Fool’s Day. I believe you’ve been pranked.” Glenda Hagan slammed down the phone, walked into the hallway, and yelled, “CURT ILES, I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!” Evidently, she had a good idea who was behind the prank. She was a good sport about it but wagged a finger in my face. “Just remember: I will get you back.” And she was true to her word. Over the next year, I fell victim to many of her revenge-pranks. She’s not the only one who’s gullible. When she’d stick the needle in, she’d remind me, “Remember Mr. Fox.” Happy April Fool’s Day, Glenda. I cherish my years of working with you, but most of all, I’m privileged to call you my lifetime friend. By the way, (318) 441-6810 is the actual Alexandria Zoo number. If you call today, ask for a list of the animal species prank calls they’ve received recently. The Construction Worker’s Boots As you learned earlier in “Mister Fox,” I love a good prank. Before I share my all-time favorite prank, I want to add a disclaimer: A prank should never harm a person, physically, or emotionally. Example: no snakes! A prank should be laughable on both ends and never meant to embarrass someone. . . . and the prankster must be ready to be pranked threefold in return. In other words, don’t dish it out if you can’t take it. Be prepared to be a good sport when it circles back to you. * * * The following story will always be my best prank. A school’s morale needs to have some fun along with solid instruction. One morning, when I was principal at EBHS, I arrived at school early before the custodians or lunchroom workers arrived. I carried a pair of my mud-caked rubber boots in the faculty women’s bathroom and locked myself in the single stall. You need some background before I continue. Construction was going on for a building extension for the high school. In their comings and goings, the workers tracked in mud. The custodians constantly complained about the workers making a mess in the hallways and bathrooms. That’s why I stood locked inside the women’s faculty bathroom, holding a pair of muddy rubber boots. I placed the boots in front of the commode. I brought two short sticks and a pair of ratty jeans. I inserted the sticks in the boots and arranged/draped the blue jeans over the sticks. I carefully arranged the jeans in the posture of someone sitting on the throne. For added realism, I set a roll of toilet paper between the boots and shook a little caked mud. I couldn’t stop laughing as I made a final inspection of my handiwork. Then, I did the most challenging part of my project. Holding my necktie, I crawled out from under the stall door. It was a tight fit. I sure couldn’t do it now. I leaned against the sink, admiring my artwork. From the outside, it looked just like one of the construction workers on the commode. Don’t forget this was the one-stall ladies’ bathroom. I hurried to my office. No one else knew my secret. As school started, I was busy with the chores of a K-12 principal: a bus driver bringing in a rowdy fourth-grader or a red-faced parent while signing a stack of excused absences. I signed tardy slips as the morning announcements were broadcast. I kept my eyes on the hallway, waiting to see who’d report the construction worker stuck in the women’s restroom. Nearly an hour passed before the four custodians met me at my office door. Thelma Bushnell was naturally the spokesperson. I loved Mrs. Thelma dearly, but she could be a bit bossy and a tad nosey. Sometimes, I wondered if she was working for me or if I was working for her. She said, “Mr. Iles, one of those construction workers, has been in the women’s restroom for nearly an hour.” “What?” “Yes, he’s been in there. We keep checking on him, but he’s still there.” “Did y’all speak to him?” “No, but Sugar heard him grunt.” I nearly lost it. “Mr. Iles, you need to come see for yourself.” The committee led me to the bathroom. “See there.” I shook my head. “Do you think he’s all right?” “As quiet as he is, he might have passed out or might be dead.” “Or he’s got a major-league case of constipation.”
Traveling Day: Washington DC to NO to Alexandria.
Monday, March 29 Traveling Day I’m a long way from the Old House in Dry Creek. As I travel across America in a few hours, I wonder what my great-great-grandparents who built the Old House would think. 1892 to 2026. Wow. Join me on my journey from Washington DC to NOLA to Alex. Stay tuned. My goal for today: Stay curious. Be amazed. Share stories. There’s nothing more fascinating and amazing than people. When I see someone reading a real book, I’m tempted to go kiss them on the lips. Seriously, I don’t care what format our readers use— paper, hardback, Kindle, or Audible— I’m honored and humbled someone would read something I’ve written. There’s always more at The Creek. www.creekbank.net
The Sayings of Prof. Adam Terry
Saturday, March 28, 2026 Washington,DC I’m here with my nephew Adam Terry. Adam is recovering from Leukemia and fighting to regain his mobility. Pray for Adam, “Uncle Curt, they ran over them like a road lizard.” ”I’ve hungry enough to eat a frozen dog.” ”I can’t have an affair. I’d have to buy new underwear.” (Quote from Adam’s dad, Greg Terry.)
See all of our Creekbank Books
Stories from the Creekbank The Old House Wind in the Pines Hearts Across the Water Deep Roots The Mockingbird’s Midnight Song Christmas Jelly The Wayfaring Stranger A Good Place As the Crow Flies A Spent Bullet Trampled Grass Uncle Sam: A Horse’s Tale Where I Come From “Medic!” The Three Trees One Night in Winterset Also by Curt Iles Stories From The Creekbank ISBN 978-0982649251 The Old House ISBN 1-4033-5227-5 Wind in the Pines ISBN 978-0-9705236-1-7 Hearts Across the Water ISBN 978-0-9863026-4-0 Deep Roots ISBN 978-0-9826492-1-3 The Mockingbird’s Song ISBN 978-0-9705236-9-3 Christmas Jelly ISBN 978-0-9826492-6-8 The Wayfaring Stranger ISBN 978-0-9826492-2-0 A Good Place ISBN 978-0-9705236-9-3 As The Crow Flies ISBN 978-0-9705236-7-9 A Spent Bullet ISBN 978-1-4497-2233-3 Trampled Grass ISBN 978-0-9863026-9-5 Uncle Sam: A Horse’s Tale Medic Ebook only ISBN 978-0-9826492-6-8 Where I Come From ISBN 978-0-9863026-0-2 paperback ISBN 978-1-967796-03-8 hardcover The Three Trees Paperback: 978-0-9863026-7-1 Ebook ISBN 978-1-967796-02-1 Hardcover ISBN 978-0-9863026 Large Print ISBN 978-1-967796-03-8 All books are available on Amazon and Ingram Distributors. www.creekbank.net Email: creekbank.stories@gmail.com Facebook: TheCreekTribe Podcast: rss.com/podcasts/TheCreek To learn about speaking engagements to book clubs, school visits, and civic groups, email creekbank.stories@gmail.com. Wow! I wrote my first book, Stories from the Creekbank, in 2000. Not only is it still in print, but it’s a steady seller. I’m so grateful for friends and readers like you who’ve kept my thirteen books “evergreen.” Evergreen is the book-selling term for a title that continues to sell long after its publication. We’ve been blessed in this. Many of you have chosen to fill the gaps in any of the thirteen books you don’t have (or have loaned) or buying one of our series bundles. Also by Curt Iles Stories From The Creekbank ISBN 978-0982649251 The Old House ISBN 1-4033-5227-5 Wind in the Pines ISBN 978-0-9705236-1-7 Hearts Across the Water ISBN 978-0-9863026-4-0 Deep Roots ISBN 978-0-9826492-1-3 The Mockingbird’s Song ISBN 978-0-9705236-9-3 Christmas Jelly ISBN 978-0-9826492-6-8 The Wayfaring Stranger ISBN 978-0-9826492-2-0 A Good Place ISBN 978-0-9705236-9-3 As The Crow Flies ISBN 978-0-9705236-7-9 A Spent Bullet ISBN 978-1-4497-2233-3 Trampled Grass ISBN 978-0-9863026-9-5 Uncle Sam: A Horse’s Tale Medic Ebook only ISBN 978-0-9826492-6-8 Where I Come From ISBN 978-0-9863026-0-2 paperback ISBN 978-1-967796-03-8 hardcover The Three Trees Paperback: 978-0-9863026-7-1 Ebook ISBN 978-1-967796-02-1 Hardcover ISBN 978-0-9863026 Large Print ISBN 978-1-967796-03-8 All books are available on Amazon and Ingram Distributors. www.creekbank.net Email: creekbank.stories@gmail.com Facebook: TheCreekTribe Podcast: rss.com/podcasts/TheCreek To learn about speaking engagements to book clubs, school visits, and civic groups, email creekbank.stories@gmail.com. I’ve been amazed at how many of you have chosen to buy the entire set of 13. It’s a pleasure to autograph these sets with special notes and scripts. Here is our Book Table. You can order through our website, read sample chapters, or go to Amazon for your purchase. Enjoy! Curt Click here or on image to visit our Book Table.
All Things Dry Creek!
All Things Dry Creek! Dry Creek Baptist Camp Website Curt Iles Creekbank Stories Website Curt Iles Amazon Page There’s no place quite like Dry Creek, Louisiana. It’s where my roots are, the place where I grew up and where we raised our three boys. It’s the place I return to regain my balance and reset my inner compass. Dry Creek is where I come from. And the center of my Dry Creek solar system is the Old House at the end of Clayton Iles Road. The Old House at the End of the Road If it’s possible to love a house like a person, Then the Lord knows I love this old house. It’s a place that reminds me of family, And the things in life that really mean the most. It’s a place I return to when I’m lonely. . . . . . Or it seems I’ve lost my way. A place where I always feel welcome, As I sit down and think for a while. This old house is more than boards and nails Because it tells me of our past . . . As I walk through it, I’m reminded that The special people in our lives never last. Although they’re gone, I will remember How they still live on inside of me. Because this old house reminds me of who I am, And everything I ever want to be . . . No tears in the writer, No tears in the reader. I believe they’ll move you, too. Chapter “Why I Love Louisiana” from Where I Come From “Tell me who you are, and I’ll tell you where you’re from.” —Wallace Stegner I was born in Louisiana when dinosaurs still roamed the earth. Yes, I’m a Louisiana writer, and I’ve been around. The experts say, “Write about what you know.” So that’s what I do. I know Louisiana, and more importantly, I love Louisiana. I write about Louisiana because I know it. I’ve lived here all my life, and my roots go deep. My people began arriving here in the early nineteenth century, and we’ve been here ever since. In spite of my state’s many quirks and flaws, I write from the heart of a deep love of its people and their fascinating stories. Everyone’s got one if we take the time to stop and listen. My love of Louisiana overflows in my writing as I choose to share stories about our good, caring people, unique culture, and outdoor beauty. Someone else can write about our shortcomings. I’m often asked, “What is it you like best about Louisiana?” That’s easy: “How our people are big-hearted.” Big-hearted. We’re a state of big-hearted people. In Where I Come From, you’ll meet many of them. I believe you’ll fall in love with them just as I have. We also have vast expanses of big-hearted places as we make some memorable field trips. We Louisianians can also poke fun at ourselves and others. A few years ago, LSU played Ohio State for the national championship. A Tiger fan held up a sign: Faster players, better food, prettier women. Let me clarify this. I don’t write about the part of Louisiana most readers and tourists know. I write about the Pineywoods. Don’t get me wrong. I love the diversity of our state, with its rice paddies, canefields, New Orleans, Cajun culture, and expansive swamps; what other state could hold Mamou, Flatwoods, Tickfaw, and New Orleans in the same bowl of gumbo? We’re the only state “The Father of Waters” chooses to pass through on its way to the Gulf. I’ll put our river, the Mississippi, against any of the great rivers of the world. However, my calling isn’t to write about the well-known parts of our state. I write about the overlooked and still undiscovered western spine of Louisiana, known as No Man’s Land. My people come from this isolated forested area adjacent to the Texas border. In earlier history, No Man’s Land was known as the Neutral Territory, Neutral Strip, and my personal favorite, the Outlaw Strip. The strip got its name from the fact that anyone running from the law in Spanish Texas or French Louisiana could find a safe haven in the Outlaw Strip. This reputation continued even after the United States took ownership. So, remember when I brag about my ancestors arriving early in the Neutral Territory, you can surmise that some of them were running from something or someone back East. My ancestors chose to settle in this specific area of No Man’s Land, known as the Pineywoods. It’s a band of pines stretching across the belt line of Louisana. My hometown of Dry Creek sits dead center in those pines. As I said, it’s where my people come from. Let’s see if I can untangle this. I’m a Southern writer who lives in Louisiana’s Pineywoods and No Man’s Land. I’m in a good season of life to write this book and share its stories. They match up with my life philosophy: Stay curious. Be amazed. Share moving stories. These sixty-six chapters moved me deeply as I wrote them, sometimes to laughter, often to tears. No tears in the writer, No tears in the reader. I believe they’ll move you, too.
