Two days before we leave

I've talked to numerous Stillwaterites while looking for a hotel and hear that the rain has cooled down the town. Stillwater sounds like a sweet place, population 40,000 with trails and friendly people. Someone has written comments that go that she invited a big city friend to Stillwater. When they walked downtown, a man passed them, tipped his hat, and said "Howdy m'am". The visiting friend asked if her Stillwater friend had paid the guy to do that. Being from a formerly small town in southern Oregon, I know that those things still happen, and that those manners are so wonderful that they will break your heart.

I have decided against taking the book I'm writing on the trip. I will take a vacation from the writing and concentrate on my first trip to Texas and Oklahoma and Kathy. We will be seeing what Marc saw and that's what we should concentrate on.

Oh, and about my book, I have around 50,000 words, with 66,000 being the average size of a novel. It's not the number, it's the quality that counts, of course. I definitely have the story and the voice, which tells the story first person and in a soundalike third person. This is the story of a thirteen year old girl whose mother suddenly takes she and her younger brother to live in a housing project. It is a story of sudden poverty. Starring in the book are Davey, a younger brother who always makes the best of things, Laura, the mother who develops a brain tumor, Rebecca, a thirteen year old girl who watches and listens and also witnesses something terrible, and Dorothea, the 45 year old next door neighbor who has her own story. There are observations about the housing project, to suit any sociologists on board, and observations about families, to suit any psychologists on board ("Mother is everywhere").

One of the great mysteries of the past few days is why there are so few rooms available in Stillwater. Their graduations have come and gone. Stillwaterites themselves do not know why the hotels are all booked. I contend that a movie is about to be filmed there and the location has been kept secret so that the paparazzi do not descend. Kathy and Rosemary and I are making a documentary on Marc, which I think will morph into a documentary about red dirt country music vs Nashville country music. Marc loved red dirt country music.

The Austin leg of the trip should be a blast. We're hearing that there are streets filled with venues where country music is played constantly. That must be what Marc loved about Austin. Kathy will love that. So far, we're not getting cowboy boots but I'm willing to place money on this: One of us will get them, and it won't be me.