If you need to know anything about C terminal at O’Hare airport, let me know. I have been living there most of the past 48 hours. Got a lot of writing done. You know things are running late when the barista pulls the big canvas shroud over the Starbucks kiosk–witnessed that twice in 24 hours. A heartfelt thank you to the Ohio hospice group. It was a privilege to gather with you. Now, off for some school visits and tonight, Spring Green.
Sometimes on book tour, readers arrive bearing gifts:
(No hidden sponsorship deal–a guy just bought three books and then said, “Here, I figured you might need this on tour.” So a big thank you to him–consider the tour protein situation covered.)
A nice article and photo here covering last Saturday’s event in Wausau. You will note my deer hunting beard, which with each passing year becomes more and more suited to blending into the snow-covered countryside. Also, I cherish the part about the book being printed on Wisconsin paper, since my Dad was working in a Wisconsin paper mill when I was born.
Congratulations to Books & Co., in Oconomowoc, celebrating 30 years this weekend. I always know I’m going to Books & Co. on book tour when the usually very young publicist from New York City says, “…and then you’re going to a bookstore in Oooka…Ohcoono…Onocos…” They usually give up on the third try.
Working on a manuscript in a scruffy (the best kind of scruffy) coffee shop somewhere along the California coast. A woman enters, dressed in worn coveralls and an off-kilter trucker cap. She is wearing safety glasses and rubber gloves. Her face is seamed and weathered and has that look of someone aged prematurely by time and trouble. I saw that face many times when I worked in mental health.
She stops at my elbow, leans in, makes eye contact, and in a firm, pleasant voice, asks, “Do you need any help today?”
“No thanks,” I say. She smiles kindly, dips her head, and moves on, making her way from table to table, asking each person the same question, and in turn, each person politely demurs.
She’s out the door and down the street before it occurs to me: There may be no kinder question.
And I don’t believe any of us answered correctly.
Sonoma, thank you for the cheese (and Band-Aid), and Pleasanton, thank you for the photo gallery.