St. James School and Catholic Church
Thursday. I arranged my schedule at the courthouse so that I could spend some time with budding young writers at St. James Parochial School in West Duluth. The invitation to talk to and interact with Mrs. Lindquist’s 6th, 7th, and 8th grade English classes came fortuitously and in typical 21st century fashion: A Facebook friend sent Mrs. Linqduist my way when the young teacher let folks know she was looking for a published author to talk to her students. Following 21st century protocol, we never spoke on the telephone but simply messaged each other until a date and time for my visit was set.
St. James is typical of many Roman Catholic schools, I imagine, throughout the country. Classes are held in an old, but well maintained building attached to the local parish. After parking my Pacifica and making my way to the one entrance (of a myriad of entrances) that the public is allowed to use to enter the complex, I followed signs leading me down brightly lighted, freshly polished hallways to the school office. After checking in, the office administrator escorted me past clusters of little kids wearing school uniforms: white polo shirts and khaki slacks for both genders. Gone are the powder blue shirts, narrow ties, and black slacks boys who attended Catholic school wore “back in my day”. And the young ladies? Completely absent were the string ties, crisp white blouses, and blue plaid skirts of the 1960s Roman Catholic school girl uniform. In the 21st century, students of both genders dress alike.
Mrs. Linqquist turned out to be a bright eyed, pretty, young lady who whose attention to her charges and her duties as a teacher would do any parent proud. As we talked before the kids filed in for my appearance, I learned that she grew up in Duluth, graduating from Duluth Central and UMD (after a spell at Concordia-Moorhead), and that she teaches English, Composition, Spanish, and Religion. Quite a load but given the small class sizes at the school, it’s a schedule that she finds manageable. We were soon joined, in her basement classroom (a cluttered but inviting space) by another young teacher and 15 or so energetic but polite young men and women between the ages of 11 and 15.
I have to say: I’ve done many, many talks, media interviews, workshops, lectures, signings, and readings concerning my books over the past 20 years but the hour I spent with Mrs. Lindquist’s kids in that small, dark classroom last Thursday, was one of the most rewarding hours I’ve ever spent as an author. Having my own 15 year old at home, I tried to make our discussion lively: less a lecture and more interactive. I welcomed questions from the students, all of which were insightful and well thought. Mrs. Lindquist was quick with the computer mouse when we took the students on a tour of this blog, finding categories and tabs and clicking on them to display areas of interest on an overhead screen as fast as I could think. Ah, the power of youth and technology! In the end, I think I drew more from the kids’ energy and enthusiasm for writing and reading than they learned from me. Our time together ended far too early.
Duluth Congregational Church Art and Craft Sale
After an afternoon of signing search warrants, finishing orders, and returning telephone calls, it was time for me to once again take off my judicial robe and become, as my second son Dylan once labeled me, “a “semi-famous” author. Jack, the only of my four sons left at home, had packed the Pacifica with boxes and storage bins the night before. I’m still recovering from shoulder surgery and, on doctor’s orders, I’m unable to use my left hand and arm for anything more than typing. So, with my judicial duties completed and as a one handed author guy, I headed all the way across town, to Lakeside, where I was scheduled to have a booth at another of WendyUpNorth’s neighborhood art and craft shows.
I like doing these smaller, indoor shows. In fact, as I’ve said before, I’ve sworn off doing the big summertime outdoor festivals that once were the bread and butter of my book sales. Being indoors has the advantage of dispensing with the need for an EZ Up tent, worrying about the weather, and makes for a less stressful existence. In addition, the cost of renting a table at these events is modest in comparison to the fees charged at larger festivals. And there is usually music, as there was on Thursday. There’s nothing better than acoustic music playing in the background to tame the savage breast, right? On Thursday, longtime Duluth-Superior folk icon Jim Hall played his guitar and sang his songs off in a corner of the event, adding a wisp of melancholy to the evening.
The One-Armed Author Guy
Though there weren’t crowds of customers, the folks who wandered in were interested in art and literature and, by the end of the night, I’d done fairly well in the sales department. I also renewed acquaintances with a woman I went from kindergarten through high school with (thanks, Monica for stopping by and buying some books!), chatted with a young woman who recently served on a jury in my courtroom, and talked music with an old acquaintance; Duluth folkie John Ward.
Towards the end of the night, I thought I’d made a sale to a woman whose husband, according to her, was 100% Finnish and likely interested in my two historical novels about the Finns.
“My husband would love these books, ” she told me. “I’ll bring him over to take a look.”
Like many folks who browse and say they will be back to buy, she didn’t return. The next time I saw her, her husband, and their teenaged daughter, I was on my way to the restroom and they were leaving the church.
“I wonder how we get out of here,” the woman said.
“Right down the hall,” I said, pointing to the exit as I entered the restroom, a bit disappointed that she hadn’t come back to my table.
From the restroom, I could hear the woman say to her husband:
“Oh, that’s the man who had the Finn books for sale. You should really take a look.”
I could sense that they’d stopped short of the exit.
“You’ll give me a few minutes to look them over?”
“Sure.”
I did what needed doing, washed my hands, and scurried back towards my table. Sure enough, the family was standing over my display, the father and husband reading the back of Suomalaiset. After some preliminaries, he bought both Suomalaiset and a manuscript copy of Sukulaiset. It’s not often that a prospective customer fulfills his or her promise to return and buy something once they’ve passed by. The fact someone came back and bought two books, was, in addition to the great time I had in Mrs. Lindquist’s class at St. James, the perfect end to a perfect day.
Mark’s Books
Peace.
Mark
