in Dallas
I met a lot of cool people, got a lot of good advice, and reunited with some of the awesomest artists I know.
Best part was, of course, reading to all the little kids. Little kids tear me up every time, and I’m not just posing or trying to channel Holden Caufield. I’m gonna exercise restraint and only tell you one kid story.
On Friday, I visited three elementary schools and read to several classes. (I even read my book in Spanish, for the first time. Exhausting, rolling so many R’s.) But, so, I read and read, and then did my duty by inviting each class to the next day’s book fair, at Dallas’s downtown library. But I felt a little guilty doing so, because I had the sense that these particular kids didn’t have disposable income cleared for picture books.
It turned out, unbeknownst to unorganized me, that Amerigroup, a sponsor, had purchased several cases of books to give away to the kids at the book fair. So all of us authors sat at tables, waiting for the kids who’d selected our books to walk up and get them signed.
This little 2nd-grade boy comes up with his mom and his grandma in tow. He runs right up to my table and says, “Do you know me?“
“Do I know you?” I repeated.
“Do you know me?” he said. “Do you know me?”
I realized, then, that he was asking if I recognized him. He was smiling like crazy, but behind him, his family had these distrustful looks on their faces. I could tell it was because they didn’t speak as much English as he did, and they couldn’t gauge whether or not he was about to be disappointed in some way.
“Did I meet you yesterday?” I asked him.
“Yes!” he said. I was right. I was the winner.
I asked him to remind me which school it was, and then we talked a tiny bit, and then I offered to sign his book. I asked for his name, and his grandmother couldn’t resist telling me his full name. I spelled it out loud to be certain (it was a very Latino name), and they happily nodded. And then…
[Aw, dude. Here it comes.]
… he told me he wanted to be a writer when he grew up.
Sniff!
And I signed his book, and he ran away. That’s all. I can’t say anymore.
I’m telling y’all, those little kids tear me up inside.
Go visit the African-American Heritage Museum in Dallas.
They were the hosts of the event, which is reason enough to support them. But, also? Their museum seriously freaking rocks. I had a good long while to tour it (while avoiding mingling at the “VIP reception,” heh), and the few exhibits I got to see were absolutely fascinating.
So go check it out. Tell Dr. Robinson and Dr. Dawson I said hi.
More later, taters.
Later I’ll tell y’all so much more about all the famous people I met, and the fact that DC professors and syndicated cartoonists apparently can’t handle red wine. (Heh. I crack myself up.)
I’ll tell y’all about the shocked facial expressions I collected from other authors when they realized that I was the one who’d written that book — the one with the dominatrix-with-futbol-player cover — in addition to my innocent little book about tamales.
I’ll tell y’all a story of a birthday boy and a tanning bed, maybe. (Sorry — these inside jokes are obnoxious, aren’t they?)
Also, I think there’s going to be a YouTube video to link to, soon. I’ll preview it and then share if my hair comes out okay.
So, more later, sweet taters. I’ll talk to y’all soon.
