A True Story
I make a big point of not talking about my family in this blog, but I have a story I think is so neat that I'm going to make an exception. Here it is:
I was talking to my son on the phone a few weeks ago. Sometimes we can talk on the phone for forty minutes or so. This was not one of those times. I was almost ready to sign off when I asked, "What are you reading in your lit class?" (Aside: Though I have a college age son, I, myself, am really young and cool. You will have to trust me on this one.) He says, "We just read "Feed." I say, "You mean Feed F E E D? Does it have a picture of a bald guy from the back on the cover." He said, "Yes. I have a signed copy." I said, "I can't believe it! I've wanted to read that for a couple of years, but our library doesn't have it and I'm too cheap to buy it. Did you like it?" He said, "I liked it the best of the books we've read." And I said, "You know it's YA?" And he said, "Yes." Then I said, "How did you end up with a signed copy?" And he said, "The author came to our class." And I'm screaming into the phone.
My son was home last weekend, and now I'm reading his book. I'll have more to say about this later.