Sent a “Cheesesteak” to a fellow who is writing a book on Overbrook High School et environs in the 1950s and ‘60. When I learned he’d played on the same Hilltoppers’ squad as Walt Hazzard and Wally Jones, I threw in a “Best Ride.” (I always figured my ideal reader for that one was someone from Philly, about my age, who was into basketball. Unfortunately, there weren’t that many of them.)
And sold three copies of “I Will Keep You Alive.” One went to a young woman at the health club about five or six years ago when I’d started on the heavy bag. Her dad, a quintuple by-pass guy, just received a pacemaker. Since I’m the only guy she knows who comes similarly equipped, she sounded me out. One thing led to another and…
The second went to an older woman who’d heard from friends in the locker room what a great book it was. Since she’d already admired the “Love” shorts Adele had made for me and my bracelets, she was already predisposed toward us. (That’s “GREAT BOOK” for those of you still without one.)
The third went to a well-regarded author (and publisher) at the café. He’d read the book in manuscript, liked it, and suggested revisions, some of which we’d made in moderation. (He is also a veteran of multiple cardiac “incidents.”) I offered to give him a copy, but as someone in the business, he insisted on supporting the arts.
In other news…
1.) I sent a series of questions to Z (See previous “Adventure”), of which he answered none. I called Customer Service at the Corporate Behemoth. Its spokeswoman said it would only respond to an e-mail. I sent an e-mail with my questions and copied Z. He immediately replied he would pay me. I told him to relax. I just wanted to understand what was going on and then we could work things out reasonably.