My wife and I are just back from five days outside Albany, New York, and I’m excited about writing up my first thoughts on the structures of Suzanne Collins’ Sunrise on the Reaping and the several possible interpretations of Louella/Lou Lou, Haymitch’s “sweetheart.”
Tonight, though, due to unpacking and laundry responsibilities, I want to share the picture above — I was in Orlando’s airport bookstore and noticed they didn’t have any copies of Sunrise; my wife guided me to the front of the store where the above display was clearly for the book-of-the-month — and a story.
We stayed at a hotel near the Albany airport on our way home because the flight was scheduled for very early in the morning. When I checked in, the very pleasant woman at the front desk said, “Oh, you have stayed with us before; welcome back.” I explained that this wasn’t possible because I had not been in Albany except for a brief stop at my wife’s friend’s home outside the city on our honeymoon in 1987. She insisted that she recognized my face and my name.
She was clearly no older than her mid-forties, so I took out the card holder my second daughter gave me when she graduated from college (we went to the same college).
I asked the woman at the desk if she loved to read books, especially better fiction. She allowed that she was an avid reader. I gave her my card and said, “Among a very small group of very serious readers, I am a niche celebrity.” She looked at the card, smiled, nodded, and asked me if she could keep the card or if I wanted her to take a picture of it and give it back. I said she could keep it, took the magnetic key-cards for the room, and thanked her for her help.
Our hosts for the time we spent in Albany had given us feast day food for our night at the hotel but we didn’t have any cutlery and it wasn’t finger food. I remembered that there was a breakfast bar across the front desk where I’d registered for the room and went back downstairs to see if there were some plastic spoons and forks there for the taking. I didn’t see any so I asked the woman at the desk.
She was very happy to see me and said, “Oh, you’ve come back!” After pointing me to where the plastic cutlery was, she darted into the room behind the desk. I retrieved the spoons and forks we needed and began walking past the reception desk to the elevator.
A college-aged young woman, either the desk attendant’s daughter or her younger sister, appeared with the biggest smile and an excited look. “I am a very big fan of yours!” she said. She seemed almost overcome by the out-of-nowhere advent I had made in her life (and was very kind not to appear disappointed by my appearance (see picture above). The lady at the desk explained that she had recognized my name from the younger woman’s collection of my books and frequent comments about them. They both asked me for the favor of a cellular phone photograph as proof that we had actually met.
They felt, I think, that my arrival at the hotel made their day. I am much more certain that they could not appreciate how they had made my day. Before my cancellation by the Gender Theorist crowd, I used to meet readers who had read my books or this weblog several times a year at fan gatherings and university speaking dates. Now the only meetings I have with these unknown friends are through online correspondence.
So, a big thank you to the two women behind the desk at the hotel in Albany! I hope someday you’ll send me the picture taken that night; I want a copy for my wall as inspiration and encouragement as I begin a new book and online program for serious readers. Cheers to you both!
