It only takes a minute

One of the delights of life comes in short takes -- quick conversations with complete strangers who are only in your life for a moment and then gone forever.

In that moment, if you take advantage of it, you can glean a new perspective, get some interesting facts, find out something about a place you'd never have figured out on your own and then some.

We had English-speaking, American taxi drivers when we were in Las Vegas. I don't believe that's ever happened to me before. Even in American cities it's unlikely the drivers will be American or really English-speaking.

But in the 10 minutes or so it took to rack up a $13 bill, we got lots of good information about famous people in town, housing trends, rich kids, best shows and such. These are not things you learn from reading newspapers or travel guides. They're things you learn from locals who've been there, seen that.

We had one taxi driver in Japan (white gloves and hat) who spoke English -- in fact was listening to it on tape. He told us how President Bush was a "cowboy" and made shooting signs with both hands, he told us how he used to be in a band in college and sang a few folk songs with us -- including "This land is your land." Probably the most remarkable 30 minutes of the trip.

We took a taxi to the airport in Salt Lake City and the man from Iran told us about the troubles there. In New York City we learned about the hard life in Haiti from our driver.

But it's not just in taxis that bothering to talk instead of sitting in silence can be rewarding.

It used to be airplane rides were a great place to learn something about someone from someplace you'd never been who'd had a life unlike anything you'd ever live. Now everyone -- including me -- is short-tempered from the gauntlet air travel is and no one even says hello much less shares their life history and world views.

I recommend the quick take, however. Whether you're waiting in line at the post office (that would be long) or standing next to someone at intermission.

It only takes a minute to expand your views by getting a bit of someone else's.

Sensory overload

Too much.

That's my description of Las Vegas. Too much nearly nakedness on billboards and monstrous video screens and trucks rebuilt for advertising and handouts thrust at you at every street corner. Too much raunch. Too much crazy drunk girls celebrating their 21st birthdays. Too much smoking indoors. Too much pretend famous cities.

The shows were good. The meals were tasty and the service was fast (unlike the service in the real versions of the cities they were pretending to be). I tried not to drop my jaw at the glitz, the gambling, the drinking, the cussing. I tried to enjoy the lights and the glamour and knowing we were eating in the same hotel as the Miss America pageant contestants one minute and sleeping in the same hotel as the visiting Clintons the next.

But while we chose not to go anywhere that advertised raunch, it was impossible to get away from it as it came from all sides. And I felt for the parents who'd brought their daughters in for the Hannah Montana performance and the ones who thought the pirate show at Treasure Island was innocent like it was 10 years ago when we were last in town.

It was jaw-droppingly too much.

Memo to Las Vegas City: Can't you DO SOMETHING?

What you see when you ski

Early morning mist, afternoon sunshine, shadows on the last run

Books and Authors

So, I was wandering around Barnes & Noble yesterday and there were just books EVERYWHERE! No matter where you turned, you saw books. Books on history, books on humor, books on mysteries, books on museums, books on famous people, books on beautiful places.

But there was a book or two missing.

Yes, the ones my sister had recommended -- which meant I dared to read them -- were not there so I ordered the one they could at least find on their computer even if it wasn't on their shelves.

And yes, you were wondering, the books I have written were not there.

That is not Barnes & Nobles' fault. It is my fault. Because I'm not famous and didn't have a publisher to do promotions and couldn't get Oprah's attention and failed at convincing people they needed to read my books -- or for that matter convincing people that I was alive and needed attention at all.

That doesn't mean I have failed.

Because last night I attended a book club that was reviewing my newest book (thanks to a near relative) and they liked the part that talked about how middle-school kids can tell if you like them and the part that tells about what you learn about people through their writing and they think that teachers should get this book and that parents would benefit too and they thought I should go to teacher conventions and do signings at Costco and in general do something besides keep my books safely tucked in boxes in my basement.

And in between and throughout, we talked about making the world a better place collectively for teachers and individually for kids.

And then one woman told me after that the stories made her laugh. And then she told me things about her life that would make anyone cry.

So just because Barnes & Noble doesn't have my book doesn't mean it's not a good book. Nor does it mean I have failed, though it probably means I only went half way -- I published my memoir but I didn't publicize it.

Maybe I'm not making the world a better place like Madeleine Albright or Alexander McCall Smith. But maybe I'm giving a few people a few things to think about. And maybe even laugh about.

It's a start.