Oh, Sarah

I have some author-crushes. I don't mean "crush" in the sense "I want to have your baby"; these are more brain-based crushes. I do, however, create elaborate fantasies that generally involve unexpected meetings in dive bars and hours of hilarious conversation punctuated with stretches of deeply intelligent philophizing. During these (entirely fictional) encounters, beers are drunk and fries are shared. It's at once down-to-earth and extremely heady. At the end of said encounters, I leave the dark, dank, dive bar with an email address and new pen pal. OK, let's be honest. This beer-drinking crush fantasy also extends to certain musicians and even a movie star or two. What can say? I think I am a fantastic conversationalist, and I tend to admire famous people who I imagine would appreciate my type of conversation.

I shared one particular bar-meeting-fantasy with B this summer. She happens to live in the same town as this particular crushes family, and I imagine escaping from B's loving, but sometimes overwhelming, family to some local drinking establishment during the holiday season. And there, escaping from her own family, is said author-crush, Sarah Vowell. (No offense to B at all. Little kids just take a lot of energy and I need a break from time to time to recharge.) Well, days after I shared this tid-bit with B, she ran into her in town at a child's theater camp production. I am not kidding. It was my fantasy, except that I wasn't there and although B spent time chatting with Sarah's twin sister Amy about their same-named sons, she never once introduced herself to Sarah. She certainly didn't mention that her little sister admires a woman who can so convincingly (and for money) make history-nerdism (and theme road trips) cool.

Well, I went right online and found Sarah's book tour schedule. She had three reading scheduled in my greater California area. The closest reading was on a school night (and by "close", I mean the far side of an hour away), so not a great option. Then the next reading was in SF, and while SF is "fun", it is also "expensive". Parking there is a pain. Traffic is a bitch. Bla bla bla. The third reading was the near side of two hours away, and on a Saturday. Perfect! (I toyed with attending all three, but I thought that might be a bit stalkerish. A bit. I want to have a beer with Sarah, not scare the bajeezus out of her.)

I thought it was at a library, so I thought little of it until a week ago when I went to check out the deets. It seems it was at the city's performing arts center, and tickets were required! Gasp! They were free, but it was ticketed seating. I managed to score FRONT ROW seats! I think someone cancelled right before I logged on. I was off to the side, but still. I half-heartedly asked around for a "date", but everyone was busy or out-of-town. I really didn't want to bring along someone who would mess up the magical moment that was bound to ensue between Sarah and myself, anyway.

Away I drove, all four of my books (and some knitting) in hand. I arrived a little early, sat down, and immediately started eavesdropping on the people sitting near me. One woman had a list of things she wanted to do (maybe 26 things to do during her 26th year?) including sleeping in a tent that she pitched herself. Huh. I can't imagine being 26 and not having pitched a tent -- not if that was the sort of thing to go on my "To-Do-Before-I-Am-[insert age here] List". I kept it to myself, though. (And all of you.) I try to keep the snark inside my head and not directed at those who are the actual recipients of the snark. It did make me deathly curious to see what these people looked like, though. I finally got a chance to turn around when one of the guys started chatting with the lady next to him about what else Sarah had written. These people were decidedly uninformed about my idol, Sarah. I got to tell them (fairly cute, bearded 20-something man and neatly coiffed 60-something woman) about the four books I've read. I got to tell them what I liked about each one:

The Wordy Shipmates is about the Puritans, and all things New England are near and dear to my New England heart. It doesn't hurt that my kids are currently reading The Cruicible, duly mentioned by Sarah in the first two pages.

Assassination Vacation which is a travelogue of a theme vacation centered around Presidential assassinations. As someone who lovingly refers to a collection of road/bike trips as "Forts Across America" and a cross-country drive as "Barbeque Across America", I get it.

The Partly-Cloudy Patriot which is so unabashedly pro-American-ideals while acknowledging, and even explaining, all the things about our peculiar system of government that drive us do-goody, idealistic, reforming liberals crazy that it made me cry.

Take the Canolli which is perhaps my least favorite of all four due to its lack of coherence (it is a collection of essays, what do I expect?), but does include my favorire of Sarah's radio commentaries. The one where her family will all die because they are spending Thanksgiving with Sarah in New York who makes yellow cornbread for the stuffing. (Remind anyone of a Thanksgiving I "ruined"?) In this she says the best thing ever about parent-child relations. She enumerates the things she and her parents can not discuss: "National politics. State and local politics... My personal life and their so-called God." Me, too!

Radio On is her first book and the only one I don't own. At the time, I didn't feel like reading a diary of a radio listener, but that was before I got on my memoir kick. It is totally on the list.

Then I got to share with them the afore-mentioned sister story. They were all suitable aghast at B's neglect of my fantasy. Who cares that B might have been incredibly embarassed to intrude upone someone else's family event for a thrill that wasn't even hers. I think she should have invited the entire Vowell clan to Christmas Eve dinner, but that's just me.

Anyway. The book reading was cool. I expected it to be about The Wordy Shipmates, but it seems that the local library chose Assassination Vacation as their Two Cities, One Book choice. (It's like The Big Read or Everybody Reads... A library or bookstore sponsors a book for the whole community to read and talk about. Cool idea.) Sarah was a bit surprised by the choice, she has always contended that it's not the sort of book that would appeal to all audiences; the topic is a bit macabre. But read she did, and annonate her already annontated text she did. She has great delivery. She was not a contributing author to This American Life for seven years for no good reason.

Then I got in line to get my books signed. We all stood in a (rather short) line with our books. Perhaps she really wasn't everyone's cup of tea after all. I got to the front (we all gave the person at the table this rather polite buffer of space for an intimate interview with the Great Sarah Vowell) and told her I had a story to tell. She listened politely while signed all four of my books. She glossed over my beer-drinking fantasy and didn't even blink at my sister's (polite?) refusal to bother her at the show, and went straight to a discussion of the theater camp's production. Was my nephew at the camp last year? No. Well, they sang this rather cute gummy bear song. I thougth it sounded a bit silly in an ironic sort of hipster way. (Surely Sarah, Queen of the History Hipsters would agree?) Nope. I guess it really was totally adorable. This year's was very Monty Python (which I think sounds awesome!). If I do go next year, I should prepare myself. "Come with a snack" are Sarah's wise words of wisdom. (And a camera and the 5th book that I am now determined to track down while in Portland this Christmas, I added to myself.)

I guess I was hoping for a best-friends-at-first-sight sort of moment. That didn't happen. But Sarah was very patient and polite with my star-gazing fandom. She didn't roll her eyes or immediately look for exits or the police. I still think we could have a great time talking over a beer. But perhaps my Sarah-Vowell stories wouldn't go over so well with the actual Sarah Vowell. Or maybe she would love to hear about Forts Across America.

I left the line and found myself in front of two librarians, and I took a moment and chatted with them. They were suitably impressed with my near-meeting of Sarah (through B). They were incredibly impressed with my almost two-hour drive to the reading. I got a high-five from one for my dedication to the written word. They liked my Forts Across America story and my ability to now design an 18th century fort complete with pentagonal design and reinfornced earthworks. (I'm not kidding about visiting all those forts. I also decided Washington really wasn't that great of a military commander after seeing Fort Necessity; more of a bumbling richie at the right place at the right time, but I digress.)

And now you, dear readers, get a blow-by-blow of the event. Lucky, lucky you.