A Journey With No End #7

Jack comes to the finale in his pursuit of Wendy – –

Wendy arrived in Scotland on Friday, and we didn’t stop on the way home from the airport to get a kitten. We went to the shelter on Saturday, after she’d slept for 11 hours. Valkittie was four weeks old, tiny, jet black, and full of herself.  She traveled with us on our journeys and lived to the ripe old age of nineteen. She even signed the witness document with her pawprint a decade later, when we hosted a wedding in our bookstore!

But we were talking about our wedding: time to make some arrangements. Since most of our friends were either folkies or storytellers, we decided to marry on the Friday before the annual Auchtermuchty Folk Festival. August 14th to be precise (making this Monday past our 25th anniversary).

We approached the minister of the local ‘Muchty Presbyterian Church, and she was all for it; however, the governing kirk session said no because we didn’t live in the parish and weren’t members of the congregation. So our good friend Aileen Carr, who lived across the street from the church in a lovely old stone house, said “Have it here!”

Invitations went out, and Wendy’s parents arrived with brand new passports. We took them for a tour of the highlands, and we stayed overnight at the B&B of another friend, Doli McLennan, where she made sure we had adjoining rooms, much to Wendy’s mother’s chagrin.

Wendy would be staying with another friend just up the street from the wedding venue for the next few nights, but she had developed a dreadful cold. She went to the local pharmacy, and the guy on duty reached behind him and produced a brown bottle. “Take this before you go to bed tonight, lassie, and don’t drive in the morning,” he said – it was Codeine – – –

The day arrived and it was raining, but by the scheduled time the sun came out. Aileen’s house  looked lovely, not least because Wendy’s friend Mike had arrived at the last minute and ironed all the tablecloths.

How to explain Mike? When we got back from the Highlands, a message on our answering machine from Mike said, “Hey, I’m in the airport in Edinburgh. Where am I supposed to go?”

I expressed concern at one of her hapless American friends running around alone and unprotected, but Wendy smiled and waved a dismissive hand.

“Mike will show up the morning of the wedding, riding an elephant, fronting a brass band. He’s that guy.”

Actually, he showed up with the cocktail waitress from the bar he had closed the night before down in Dunfermline. He’d remembered that I lived there, but found a pub instead of my house, and a willing guide to get him to ‘Muchty…. who I’m sure was a nice lassie. She dropped him off and went back to her bartending duties—after making sure he had her phone number for after the nuptials.

Wendy’s bridesmaid, Donna-Marie, arrived from Virginia and also had adventures in the pubs of Dunfermline, as well as scaring a taxi driver who couldn’t find ‘Muchty.

Next week – the big day arrives – –

The Monday Book – No Two Persons by Erica Bauermeister

Guest review by Janelle Bailey, avid reader/ever-an-educator/lifelong learner

No Two Persons by Erica Bauermeister

Quite honestly, everything Erica Bauermeister has ever written/published I have devoured and enjoyed, but for maybe liking just one of her books a little less than I have loved every other. I must simply say that her writing, her stories, her characters, her themes, well…they truly tend to push all of the right buttons for my avidly reading always heart and soul. Bauermeister “gets me” like very few other authors so consistently have, and this is simply one more piece of evidence.

There were numerous times during my reading of No Two Persons when Bauermeister began an idea and was articulating something that I have, myself, thought…and gosh, if I couldn’t have–and so many times–finished the paragraph for her, as she wrote exactly what I was already thinking…but articulately, poetically, beautifully and all the while constructing this gorgeous novel. Maybe that strikes you as odd, but in no way am I saying that she writes a predictable book or anything like that; this reality did not do even an iota of deterring me from loving the entire book. I am trying to say that we can, apparently, finish each others’ sentences, or so closely share similar thoughts, that while that may sound creepy, it is not, and just makes me feel like we are, well…on the same page.

Bauermeister told this entire story in such a way that she made me feel like I was right there with her all the while, that she understands some big and small ideas exactly as I do. Therefore, a gorgeous irony contained within is the entire point of the book’s title and a central idea, that, according to Madame Swetchine, a well-educated Russian woman–fairly unknown and often not quoted for writing this when Edmund Wilson often is–“No two persons ever read the same book, or saw the same picture.” But man, am I eager to discuss this book with others to see how they felt.

In this beautifully written, heart-deep and heady novel, there are many, many characters. Some readers will not like, let alone appreciate so deeply as I do, this fact. How can you write a book called No Two Persons and addressing Swetchine’s comment without including numerous persons? The onus–honor of meeting them, I say–is on the reader to follow the thread, and oh, boy is it ever a sweet and silvery metallic one, one that will absolutely beautify “the read” and make of the experience a fabulous tapestry, richly woven with all of these characters who have met or read Alice’s book and its main character. I will always remember only its title and how valuable that character is, that everyone needs to meet him but likely no two persons grab the exact same experience in reading. Yet everyone gets exactly what they need.

Not long before reading this book–and truthfully, a friend walked into a bookstore with me on my birthday, and said–as we talked about those we knew and those we did not as we encountered them: “I’d like you to pick out a book for me to buy you for your birthday.” Oh. My. Goodness. The GIFT of this statement. I did not have to waffle much, having this title already on hold at the library, as to which I would choose, though I certainly enjoyed the anticipation and looked at many, many others first. That was some of the joy of this gift!

But it wasn’t only that.

I was having a discussion with a dear and near neighbor who reads nearly as much and as lovingly as I do…and just a month ago. We could talk for hours about good books and what we are reading and what we want to read and what we have previously read for HOURS…and easily do. So when our paths cross, we often do not get started–LOL–but try to just share what we’re reading right now, and yet then we’ve started. Right?

After coming home from my birthday with this new book in hand, we ran into each other, and found ourselves sharing that we’ve each read every one of Bauermeister’s books (I for sure have, but I think she had, too). We shared how much we’d been struck by the earliest ones, compelling us to be so eager to and then read the rest. And then, no lie: the next day, when I–and I don’t always–looked at my Facebook memories, I found a memory from ten years ago that indicated that The School of Essential Ingredients was the 15th book I had read/reviewed that year–2013 (This was my 67th book this year, and I’m so pleased with my improvement!)–and then reads: “The School of Essential Ingredients by Erica Bauermeister. Wow. This is MY kind of romance, S__ C__ (a friend who had, I believe, recommended it)…beautifully written, twining together story and food, experiences and dreams. Fifty Shades of Gray has NOTHING on this. Find me a guy who “gets” this story and all of its ingredients, please.” I took a screenshot of the FB memory (she’s not on FB) and it and send it to my neighbor, as she and I had JUST had this conversation, and we both indicated we should share the book with our husbands.

That’s just a bit more of the craziness, because ten years ago TODAY (exactly one month and two days after posting that on Facebook in 2013), I met in person for the first time a guy I’d met on match.com. We met in the middle and enjoyed getting to know each other over a first date that included a couple of beers and some frozen pizza prepared for us by the bartender in a pretty sticky-floored bar with pretty clean bathrooms. Two days later we went on our second date, and that lasted a record thirteen hours, including a farmer’s market, an al fresco brunch/lunch, nine holes of golf (my concession at his wish/request), sushi all the way through the green tea ice cream (his trade off/adventure), and finished with me telling him in one more location nearby (the sushi place had no room for us to stay) one of my favorite life stories (which, of course, is all about a book!). And then, just two weeks more than eight years ago…I married him.

And MAYBE if he knows that the neighbor is reading the book, too, he’ll somehow be game to read this one. It’s not the murder-mystery like he most enjoys, but man: if we could, in this case, read the same book and discuss how similarly and differently our two persons feel about the book…well, that would be pretty darned neat.