To Chabon, on my 24th

It was absolutely surreal to realize that he was an ordinary person, though probably a shade geekier than most, and that he said, "Yes, sir," to me when I raised my hand for a question. One day I will say, oh, yes, Michael Chabon and I have talked before. I will give a knowing wink.

During the Q&A that preceded his first book signing of the day, I asked Mr. Chabon, when it seemed that nobody else had any more questions, how it felt to win the Pulitzer and to know that his book would never be forgotten. He turned red and laughed and made a joke about how he had to stop blushing before he could answer that, and then gave a very interesting answer in which he told the tale of how he was informed that he won the Pulitzer.

Then he said, "Last spring I was in New York, standing on a corner, looking up at the zipper -- you know, the news ticker that's on the network buildings? -- and something caught my eye. The word PULITZER scrolled across, followed by PRIZE. And I watched as this slowly paraded across the zipper: PULITZER ... PRIZE ... WINNING ... AUTHOR ... EUDORA ... WELTY ... DEAD ... AT ... 92. I got a chill. Because that is how you're remembered. They can't take that away from you."

Later he gave a lecture on the differences between his generation's childhood and this, and he was a captivating (if slightly nervous, as most authors, I think, are) speaker.

Each time he signed my books I could think of nothing to say except, "Excellent lecture." Which he thanked me for and so I left.

These will never be sold:

     :: The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay
     :: Summerland

And so went my self-administered birthday treat. Not sure how I'll top this next year. Maybe I won't bother trying.