Looking forward to meeting admired columnist (10/08/07)

Fan mail.

It is something that lifts up my spirits for days at a time. Even hate mail means someone is reading this and cares enough to send a note my way. I keep every piece of it I have ever received.

So why have I never once in my life sent fan mail? I'm not quite sure. There are so many times when I have read a column by one or the other of my current three favorite columnists, Jacquelyn Mitchard, Leonard Pitts Jr. and Sharon Randall and thought I really should drop them a note and thank them for choosing to share bits and pieces of their lives with me. I don't always agree with what they have to say, but I always appreciate the way they have presented their points of view. I want to thank them for a touch of insight. I want to thank them for making me laugh. I want to thank them for making me think. I want to thank them for making me glad I know how to read.

But I never do.

Sometimes I make note of the address at the end of the column and think that this time I will write. This time I will tell them that their words have touched my soul. Sometimes I even go so far as to get out pen and paper. Then time slips away and I read the next offering and the next and the next and what I had to say about something written several months ago no longer seems relevant. Procrastination is one of my many faults. This week I will finally get to thank one of them in person. Jacquelyn Mitchard is coming to town and I can't wait to meet her. I wonder what she is like? Is she short or tall? Thin or pudgy? Calm or frazzled? Is she as organized as her web page indicates? Will she bring any of her kids with her or are they in school? Should I bake her some cookies? Would she rather have the best fudge in the world from the local fudge shop? Should I just admire her from afar on the off-chance she will think I'm some kind of lunatic fan?

I'll admit that sometimes when people come up to me I am uncomfortable. I don't want to disappoint them. They think they know me but all they really know is what I choose to show them. I also admit to going to the store in grubby clothes after a day of gardening or cleaning and avoiding people I think I know because I look awful. And I panic when I am pulling sidewalk weeds and someone stops to say something nice. When that happened I was convinced that I had inadvertently tossed an unwanted handful of purslane into her open window. Thank goodness I missed. It landed about a foot away from her car.

When my daughter and granddaughter visited this summer we were going outside to play in the puddles. My daughter had to get dressed and "look nice" before she would come outside. When I asked her why she said, "Because people stop and talk to you." I looked down at my ratty T-shirt and bleach-stained shorts and shrugged. I figure if I am in my own yard then I can look like the slob I really am. Besides, who wants to dress up to play in puddles with a toddler?

I wonder if Ms. Mitchard would rather be playing in puddles with toddlers than talking to a bunch of admirers in a strange town. Does she thrive on the attention and approval or would she rather be puttering around at home wondering how to restructure a paragraph so it makes more sense? I wonder if her fingers are as dyslexic as mine are? Does she think spell check is a life saver or the bane of those of us who actually know the difference between to, two, and too? Does she ever get to the end of her column and realize she is still 200 words short?

I am looking forward to hearing what she has to say. I am looking forward to being able to thank her in person for choosing to share her life through her writing. I want to be able to tell her that I think she is really good at her chosen profession unless my inherent shyness kicks in then there is still time to dash off a bit of fan mail to a writer whom I admire.[[In-content Ad]]