Book Signing

I went back to Bank Square Books to discuss and sign the Last Voyage of the Cosmic Muffin and sold two books while I was there. That meant out of the twelve I sent to the store I sold five, left four autographed copies and took three back home with me. This independent bookstore is located on a bend and intersection of the main thoroughfare of Mystic, just an oyster’s toss from the drawbridge over the River. It’s a good location and on a raining day in early fall it had nice afternoon traffic—tourist and locals. Early in the signing I had a good number of people come by and listen to my stories. By 4 PM the store was quite. It wasn’t until 5 PM that the activity picked up again, but by then I was scheduled to head back to RV land.

Kate from Pokai Bay, Hawaii who was at the presentation in Saratoga Springs stopped in to say hello and chat. Kate owns and rents out a house in the Mystic area, but is originally from Saratoga.

I asked her why she came to the signing in Saratoga. It was a couple of things that piqued her interest. The article in the Saratogian spoke about my RV trip and that I sailed from Hawaii. Those common connections drew her in. I need to find more single RV’ing women (I have yet to meet another). She is going to a reunion in a couple of weeks and will take my book to show a few old friends. Go Blue Streaks!

Although she is a few years older than me, we tried to see if we had any come friends in Saratoga. We could not come up with any, but she mentioned she lived on State Street. I tried to remember a high school friend who also lived on State Street. I could not come up with it until now – Wendy Guckemus. I had not thought of her for years.

We talked about the changes in Saratoga, such as the invasion of downstate transplants. A few old family friends tried to send cards of condolences to dad, but did not have his correct address. There was a time when the envelop could have said Manuel Perez in either Saratoga, Gansevoort or Kings Station and the letter would have made it to the little mailbox at the bottom of the hill (in those days the mailman did not deliver letters to the end of the driveway). In those days there was only one Perez in the phone book. The name was found right next to Pepper’s Turkey Farm and around Thanksgiving we would occasionally get phone calls for turkeys. Now there are at least a dozen Perez’s listed (no relations to any of them) and Pepper’s went out of business years ago. (Herding flocks of them across Rt. 9 might have been part of the business model problem.)

Rain has stopped although there is thunder in the distance. A chill is falling on the campground. At sunset, a low fog crept out of the woods to lie on the tent grounds vacated by a Boy Scout Troop. This morning they broke camp in the pouring rain. I sat in bed looking out the RV cab window as the boys took down their green pup tents. I imagined all that wet gear smelling like campfire smoke. A shivered ran through me and I sunk deeper into my bed. RV camping isn’t that bad after all.

Tomorrow, I begin the journey south. First stop, New Jersey after I figure out how to avoid NYC.