Our People, Our Heroes
In total, Steve Almond and I have met only three times face to face.
The first was at the Tin House Writers Workshop in 2007, where he was my workshop leader for a week. So, technically, I saw him every day for seven consecutive days.
The second was about a year or two later when I went to a reading for his book, Not That You Asked.
And the third meeting was last weekend at the Los Angeles Times Festival of Books, where he was speaking and signing copies of his newest book, All The Secrets of the World.
It had been over ten years since I had seen my hero, but there he was, and that first greeting—a warm hug—closed the gap of so many years.
I’ll admit: this man-crush thing I have going on for Steve is very one-sided. When I met him, he was well-established in the writing world with his bestseller, Candyfreak, and his story collection, My Life in Heavy Metal.
For me, an aspiring writer, it was like meeting a rockstar. And that’s where I’ve kept him in my mind ever since.
We’ve stayed in contact over the years via email, him critiquing some of work, and most recently his providing of a blurb for my new story collection, Functional Families.
Plus, I never missed an episode of he and Wild author, Cheryl Strayed’s love advice podcast, Dear Sugars.
In short, I’ve kept him close to me because he represents a lot of things to me: mentor, big brother/father figure-ish, dad bro, and now, friend.
For the LA Times Festival of Books, I built a whole weekend around the opportunity to see him.
I told my sons, who I brought with me to festival, that it’s not often you get to be surrounded by your people. It’s not often you get to meet your heroes, I said.
Steve has taken on celebrity status with them as well since some of our nighttime reading is Candyfreak, which for young boys who love candy, is like the adult version of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.
And so, the boys were just as starstruck when Steve came from around his signing table to greet us. It was one of those moments when you meet the person you only know virtually or via their picture, and then the moment comes when they are standing in front of you, and you both realize you’re humans who need other humans just as desperately as the next human.
It was a relatively short meeting. Steve had other fans to sign books for. My boys wanted to get going. We were under the midday heat.
And so, we said goodbye and until next time, to when and wherever that would be.
As I was stepping away, Steve said, “Here, let me give you a hug, man,” and he came around the table again and we hugged. In that moment, he reminded me what he has been teaching me and all his students for years—mercy.
Thank you, Steve, for being an amazing teacher, and friend. Until next time!
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Photo by Mehdi MeSSrro on Unsplash