I am on my last gasp of this book tour for the paperback of The Book That Matters Most and Morningstar: Growing Up With Books. Both of these books, one a novel and the other a memoir, celebrate reading and the way literature can shape us, inspire us, guide us, and even save us. I have so loved talking to so many fellow readers about my own favorite books and writing and reading in general!
Last week I had the great fortune to visit McKinney Texas where The Book That Matters Most was chosen as the Read Across McKinney selection. As anyone who follows me here or on social media knows, I spend a lot of time on the road, and I have many many wonderful adventures and meet many many wonderful people. My visits to Savannah and Minneapolis are two recent examples of such memorable experiences with unforgettable people.
Now let me gush about McKinney Texas. I have not spent a lot of time in Texas, except visits to my niece in Houston over the years and a crazy Pulpwood Queen Weekend in Nacadochies last year. So when I flew into Dallas' Love Field I didn't know what to expect. I was met by Gail and Jo, two of the most fun women I've had the pleasure to spend a few days with. We drove through old leafy neighborhoods until the highway was clear, Gail and Jo telling me how they ended up here and pointing out the sites along the way. The best site was historic McKinney itself, with a restores town square built around the courthouse and lined with unique shops and restaurants. (they told me to get a sandwich at patina Green before I left, and the ham and cheese with peach jelly on jalapeno bread was the envy of everyone on my flight home!) I stayed at the historic Grand Hotel, with its dark wood and cowboy paintings. Rick's Chophouse in the hotel served up the best fried chicken, mashed potatoes, corn, and pepper gravy I've had in a long while. I had the spinach salad both nights it was so good--warm bacon dressing? yes, please!
But it was the people who made this trip so special. Jo and Gail, Karen and JoAnn, Chris and everyone else who fed me, drove me, made me laugh, introduced me to new books, and made me fall in love with McKinney. It might look easy from the outside, all of this traveling around and talking to people. But writers are introverts at heart, and sometimes it is downright exhausting. Sometimes it feels like I cannot think of one more thing of any importance to say. Sometimes I wish I were home with my cats and Annabelle and my husband, playing cards and cooking dinner. But then I go to someplace like McKinney, with people like these people, and I am simply glad for my good fortune in getting to travel around and see a bit of the world and the wonderful people in it who love books.
Fitting that I go straight from McKinney to Breadloaf, the place that changed my life so long ago, that let me know that I was indeed a writer. My husband picked me up at Logan and we drove the 3+ hours to Vermont, listening to John Updike's Maples stories on tape and discussing each one as it finished. We arrived too late to see anyone else, so happily settled into my favorite room there, Birch 104, and had whiskeys and breathed in the autumn Vermont air. The weekend was a send off to my dear friend Michael Collier, retiring after many years as director and changing the heart and soul of this esteemed place. There is nothing quite like walking across its green grass and seeing all the yellow houses and Adirondack chairs, catching bits of conversation about the writing life as you pass other writers. We ate and drank and talked into the night and the next morning, where we made pots of coffee for old friends and drank them on rocking chairs on the porch, with scones and such good cheer. I look forward to the next phase in Breadloaf's life, a place that is part of me.
From Breadloaf we had lunch in Ripton with old friends Rick and Molly Hawley. Soup and chicken salad sandwiches after Bloody Mary's on their back porch, watching ladybugs and listening to the river moving over rocks. Then on to Burlington where I am giving a luncheon talk to the New England Library Association today. A bumpy entry yesterday afternoon because we waited almost two hours for our room at the Sheraton here. But we drank Manahttans and played cards and my husband helped ease my crankiness. So did watching two episodes of American Vandal and laughing hard, then meeting friends for the most delicious middle eastern food at Honey Land downtown.
I admit to being tired from being on the road, but tonight we will be back in NYC, and Wednesday I will be back at the loft happily with Annabelle and the girls after this longish stretch away. Annabelle and I are going to DC this weekend for a knitting event. And we are just a week away from our yearly trip to Tuscany, where writers will come for workshops and wine, food and conversation, and to breathe in all that makes that place so magical. There I will get some restorative time, and am so excited that Sam is joining us too. Family, food, and literature. In Italy. Sounds pretty divine.
Last week I had the great fortune to visit McKinney Texas where The Book That Matters Most was chosen as the Read Across McKinney selection. As anyone who follows me here or on social media knows, I spend a lot of time on the road, and I have many many wonderful adventures and meet many many wonderful people. My visits to Savannah and Minneapolis are two recent examples of such memorable experiences with unforgettable people.
Now let me gush about McKinney Texas. I have not spent a lot of time in Texas, except visits to my niece in Houston over the years and a crazy Pulpwood Queen Weekend in Nacadochies last year. So when I flew into Dallas' Love Field I didn't know what to expect. I was met by Gail and Jo, two of the most fun women I've had the pleasure to spend a few days with. We drove through old leafy neighborhoods until the highway was clear, Gail and Jo telling me how they ended up here and pointing out the sites along the way. The best site was historic McKinney itself, with a restores town square built around the courthouse and lined with unique shops and restaurants. (they told me to get a sandwich at patina Green before I left, and the ham and cheese with peach jelly on jalapeno bread was the envy of everyone on my flight home!) I stayed at the historic Grand Hotel, with its dark wood and cowboy paintings. Rick's Chophouse in the hotel served up the best fried chicken, mashed potatoes, corn, and pepper gravy I've had in a long while. I had the spinach salad both nights it was so good--warm bacon dressing? yes, please!
But it was the people who made this trip so special. Jo and Gail, Karen and JoAnn, Chris and everyone else who fed me, drove me, made me laugh, introduced me to new books, and made me fall in love with McKinney. It might look easy from the outside, all of this traveling around and talking to people. But writers are introverts at heart, and sometimes it is downright exhausting. Sometimes it feels like I cannot think of one more thing of any importance to say. Sometimes I wish I were home with my cats and Annabelle and my husband, playing cards and cooking dinner. But then I go to someplace like McKinney, with people like these people, and I am simply glad for my good fortune in getting to travel around and see a bit of the world and the wonderful people in it who love books.
Fitting that I go straight from McKinney to Breadloaf, the place that changed my life so long ago, that let me know that I was indeed a writer. My husband picked me up at Logan and we drove the 3+ hours to Vermont, listening to John Updike's Maples stories on tape and discussing each one as it finished. We arrived too late to see anyone else, so happily settled into my favorite room there, Birch 104, and had whiskeys and breathed in the autumn Vermont air. The weekend was a send off to my dear friend Michael Collier, retiring after many years as director and changing the heart and soul of this esteemed place. There is nothing quite like walking across its green grass and seeing all the yellow houses and Adirondack chairs, catching bits of conversation about the writing life as you pass other writers. We ate and drank and talked into the night and the next morning, where we made pots of coffee for old friends and drank them on rocking chairs on the porch, with scones and such good cheer. I look forward to the next phase in Breadloaf's life, a place that is part of me.
From Breadloaf we had lunch in Ripton with old friends Rick and Molly Hawley. Soup and chicken salad sandwiches after Bloody Mary's on their back porch, watching ladybugs and listening to the river moving over rocks. Then on to Burlington where I am giving a luncheon talk to the New England Library Association today. A bumpy entry yesterday afternoon because we waited almost two hours for our room at the Sheraton here. But we drank Manahttans and played cards and my husband helped ease my crankiness. So did watching two episodes of American Vandal and laughing hard, then meeting friends for the most delicious middle eastern food at Honey Land downtown.
I admit to being tired from being on the road, but tonight we will be back in NYC, and Wednesday I will be back at the loft happily with Annabelle and the girls after this longish stretch away. Annabelle and I are going to DC this weekend for a knitting event. And we are just a week away from our yearly trip to Tuscany, where writers will come for workshops and wine, food and conversation, and to breathe in all that makes that place so magical. There I will get some restorative time, and am so excited that Sam is joining us too. Family, food, and literature. In Italy. Sounds pretty divine.
