There's No Place Like Home

(continued from yesterday)

And the interview the next morning was fine, of course. The phone worked, there was no static, no one cut in on me, and Michael Olsen did a great interview. As soon as that interview ended, we got into the car and drove right to Elliot Bay for my next talk. I got crankier as we drove, frustrated that we couldn’t find this Indian restaurant in Seattle where we’d been wanting to eat, suffering from both hunger and an upset stomach at the same time, and I’d settled back into worrying about my next event. The time of the event had changed a couple of times and there had not been as much media attention as I would have liked (although that didn’t seen to hurt the Bellingham event, but that sort of logic rarely works with me.)

So we ate a quick lunch near the bookstore and I gave a talk to 5 or 6 people at Elliot Bay. How depressing to talk to such a small audience at such a big bookstore. My heart wasn’t in it, either, so I kept the talk short, answered a few perfunctory questions, and got ready to head home.

But something happened at the end of the talk, as something always does when I least expect it: a middle-aged woman who had been sitting in the back came up to me with a hardcover of my last book, From the Ground Up, and told me that she loved the book, she’d read it over and over, she’d given copies to all her friends, and she’d made a special point of coming down here so I could sign her book. She told me that the book had meant a great deal to her, and to her daughter, who had just started to garden.

Wow. I just don’t know what to say when people come up to me and pour out their hearts about that book. I mean, I’ve had people tell me that the book changed their life. And then they come down and sit through my tedious little talk on worms just so they can meet me. I can’t help but think, what a disappointment it must be for them. I mean, here I am, weary, desperate to get home, not very eloquent, probably nothing like the person they imagined when they read the book.

I signed her book and thanked her for coming. We chatted about her garden, and her daughter’s garden. What else should I have said? I don’t know. I never know in those situations.

Anyway, that’s it. The tour’s over. In a few hours, we’ll be back in Eureka.
Actually, I’m lying when I say the tour’s over. I’m going to DC next weekend. There are a few more events lined up in July. But it’s mostly over, and—hang in there worms—we’re almost home.

P.S. Got home and released the nightcrawlers back into the soil--see photo above--they are plainly delighted to be home, don't you think?