(Published June 8, 2009)
I know my last post from the road (see The Peddler on the Archive Page) wasn’t the most cheery of messages. Sometimes, when you’re battered a little by life, whining isn’t a bad thing. Letting it out, vocalizing the seeming injustice of fate, has a cathartic affect, though hopefully such posts will be few and far between.
Saturday morning. Lucy Kaplansky on the CD changer. It’s bright and sunny and the road is clear. The hum of tires against pavement as a backdrop to edgy vocals and clever lyrics. I’m on my way to Tower, Minnesota to sell books at the very first Lake Vermilion Harbor Days Festival. Somewhere north of Island Lake on Highway No. 4, a bald eagle swoops towards the blacktop before veering off, soaring away into the blue. Further up the road, deer threaten to bolt in front of my Pacifica. A broad winged hawk sits contentedly on a dead snowshoe hare, protecting its kill from intruders. Cottontails nervously bound across the blacktop, presumably aware their rodent cousin has become raptor feed.
I set up my display inside the community center in Tower. It’s a small festival, maybe fifty vendors. Familiar odors; grease and pork and fry bread and kettle corn; greet my nose as I sit in a metal folding chair and wait for customers. I am early. I am always early.
Patrons begin to meander through. Wallets open. Money is produced. Change is made. Books are signed and handed to their new owners, and every now and then, kind folks tell me how much they’ve enjoyed my writing.
Later, I get a big hug from my friend Donna as I stand outside in the cold; the sun having long since disappeared behind a solid ceiling of gray. We listen as Donna’s husband and his band work an old Stephen Stills song, ‘Love the One You’re With”. The Boundary Water Boys kick the shit out of the tune and all is once again right with the universe.
Peace.
Mark
