Tuesday, July 26, 2016

Sharon

I've been missing my friend Sharon Kamerath lately.  I mean, I always miss Sharon, who passed away a few years ago.  But the last few days I've really, really, REALLY missed her.

Sharon had been ill for a long time and knew she was dying, which meant that she had time to arrange a few things--Sharon was a natural born arranger--and one of the things she did was to tell her family and friends that if they ever found a stray button, they'd know she'd been visiting.

Anyway.  I've found myself looking for buttons.  On the street.  In my car.  Around town.  I haven't found any.  Until I looked up just now and saw that vase full of button flowers my daughter-in-law Julie made for me.  It's just sitting there.  On my window sill.

BUTTONS!

Oh, Sharon.  Thanks for reminding me that sometimes the thing we're looking for is right in front of us.

Friday, July 22, 2016

Last night at the bookstore

The author Kent Haruf's wife, Cathy, joined us for a discussion about her late husband and his work.

Let it be said that Cathy Haruf is splendid--intelligent, funny, warm, and strikingly good-lucking.  With her white hair and enormous brown eyes, she stands out.  And her husband, of course, was a gifted storyteller.  So it was interesting to hear her talk about his process which involved going out to a tool shed, putting on a cap and pulling it down over his eyes so he couldn't see what he was typing, and going to work on a typewriter.  He used the hat, Cathy said, to keep from being distracted.

When he finished his work, he would give it to Cathy, who would go through his (apparently) stream-of-consciousness, single-spaced draft, clean it up and input it into the computer.

As a writer myself, I have to say this is huge.  HUGE.  She was, and I'm sure he acknowledged this, a writing partner.

And this got me to thinking about my own writing life and how I didn't have a wife to run interference for me in all the ways that women will run interference for the men they love--especially if they feel like those men are geniuses.  They feed them, they shield them from unnecessary interruptions, they encourage, they edit, they listen, they protect his time and his space.

As it turns out, I would not have been a writer if it weren't for Ken Cannon.  He truly encouraged and encourages me to write.  He sent off my first manuscript--the one that eventually became Cal Cameron by Day, Spider-Many by Night--after I had lost confidence in it and myself.  He has always made it possible for me to leave when I needed time to focus.  And, of course, his paycheck has supported us--something I would have not been capable of doing on my writing income alone.  So I appreciate him more than words can say.

But I do have to say last night caused me to reflect about the differences in our lives when it comes to gender.  Men can write through life.  Women have to write around it.

Thursday, July 21, 2016

HARRY POTTER AND THE CURSED CHILD

So, true confession time:  my family and I never really got into the Harry Potter books the way everybody else did.  But I seriously LOVED that people did.

For my next Trib books piece I want to write about people's favorite reading-Harry-Potter memories. If you have something you'd like to contribute, I'd love it.  E-mail me at cannon@sltrib.com.


Wednesday, July 20, 2016

Emails from readers

Most of the time my column in the Salt Lake Tribune is genial.  And most of time I avoid mentioning a) religion and b) politics because plenty of others are happy to mention away on those topics.  But every now and then I let loose and do a little flame-throwing, which makes me feel like my old friend Robert Kirby for a day.  Of course there's pushback when I do that, so going through my email can get . . . interesting.

Anyway, today's column was an open letter to D-Trump, scolding him for his (I believe) cynical exploitation of Islamophobia.  Predictably there were e-mails waiting for me.  Oh, yes.  There were e-mails.  This was my favorite:

The Sudoku puzzle on today's puzzle website is the same puzzle from yesterday. I've noticed this happening lately. Maybe I just haven't been that observant until lately. It would be nice to have a new puzzle each day. Any chance of that?

Sunday, July 3, 2016

Question of the Day

I just turned on the Marlins v. Braves game.

Not that I care about either one of those teams but it's summer and baseball must be on at all times here at Chez Cannon.

Anyway.  The organist (you know how some franchises still have an old school organ player?) just busted out a version of Greensleaves.  Which leads me to my question.

Does Greensleaves scream baseball to you?

Monday, June 27, 2016

Testing, testing, 1-2-3

Is this blog still working?

Yes.  I believe it is.  Thank you, Blog, for still working even though I've ignored you so . . .

We just returned from a stellar week at the beach, which led to this column.  It's hard to believe that my brothers and I are all grandparents now, watching our grandchildren interact with one another the way you used to watch our kids.

Wow.  Time.

If you're still reading, thank you.  I promise to try harder.

Monday, June 6, 2016

Well, I kinda felt like I was in the middle of a Viagra commercial

WARNING:  This post will not be near as interesting as that title.  Just so you know.

Anyway, Ken Cannon and I returned from a weekend in and around Capitol Reef where we were surrounded by aging Baby Boomers on motorcycles and so forth, making one last grab at Youth trotting out the front door.

But whatever.  The park was great, and we packed a heap of living into a few days.  Because you never know.  MAYBE WE ONLY HAVE A FEW DAYS LEFT AT THIS STAGE.  But again, whatever.  We hiked and drove the Burr Trail, as well as an offered trail through Cathedral Valley where we ate a lunch at the foot of the Temple of the Sun.  We also forded the Fremont River (okay, fine!  It was like six inches deep!) and took a ferry across Lake Powell.  

And then we ate pie at the Sunglo Cafe in Bicknell--Pinto Bean with all the whipped cream a fat boy could want.

It's good to get away.