You’ll Get What You’ll Get

It has rained for so many days now, it is almost impossible to imagine a time when walking down the pasture to move the cows didn’t result in pants soaked to the knee and feet shriveling in the water sluicing through any one of the numerous holes in what was once, many moons ago, a pair of waterproof boots. On most of the fields around us the first cutting of hay still stands, growing taller and thicker by the minute, in precise disproportion to its overall quality. With first cut, you can have quality or quantity, but you can’t really have both. Given all the moisture in the ground, we’re going to need at least four straight days of sun to put up good square bales, and I don’t see that coming any time real soon. Ah, well: As my mother used to say “you’ll get what you’ll get and you won’t get upset.” Actually, she never said that, but I sorta wish she had. It seems like just the thing a young fella needs to hear from time to time.

Last night was the launch of $AVED at my favorite book store in the galaxy (heh. That’s pretty funny). I try very hard to have no expectations going into these sort of events; I’ve done readings in front of hundreds and maybe even thousands of people, and I’ve done them in front of a handful. Both are rewarding in their own way, although it’s true that it can be a little dispiriting to be talking at a bunch of empty seats. So when I arrived at the Galaxy 20 minutes or so before my reading, I was a bit alarmed to see the number of chairs they’d put out. From the perspective of my fragile psyche, I’d far rather read to 10 people sitting in 8 chairs (however they’d manage that), than 15 people sitting in 25 chairs. Whenever Sandy and Linda and Diane weren’t looking, I quietly folded up a chair or two and placed them out of sight. Actually, I didn’t. But I sort of wanted to.

By gum, we packed the place. I’m tempted to say it was standing room only, but that sounds a bit self-aggrandizing, so I won’t. But it was darn close. Best of all, Erik, the main protagonist of $AVED, showed up, and we had a rousing conversation – me and him and many, many of the folks in attendance – about money and wealth and nature and education and inequality and… well, about everything, it seemed like. At the end, after a solid 90 minutes of conversation, I received perhaps the biggest compliment of my so-called professional career when someone in the back called out “I think you guys should just keep talking.” Penny, I could see, was nearly aghast: Someone asking me to keep talking? Did they have any freakin’ idea what they might be getting themselves into?

Of course, this is not how it will be for all of my events. At some point over the next month or so, I’m likely to find myself standing in front of 15 people and a couple dozen chairs. Or even 5 people and a couple dozen chairs. That’s ok. It’s great, even, if only because we all need a bit of humbling now and then, a reminder that we’ll get what we’ll get, and that furthermore, it is almost certain to be just enough.