A TFOB Picture Post

Elsa was there, at the entrance.  

The little girls were mesmerized, squealing in that high pitch only achieved by 3 year olds in ecstasy when Elsa bent down to talk to them.

I became a Friend of the Festival, making a donation to insure that I would have a seat to see and hear my favorite poet, ever.

I was in the front row for Billy Collins's solo performance,

and for his duet with Juan Felipe Herrera the next day.

Billy Collins was the highlight for me, but there were many, many other wonderful events.

Sitting, again in the front row, I watched Scott Turow lean his head first on his left hand and then on his right hand as he answered questions with fully formed paragraphs.

Greg Iles shared the stage with him, and that's about all they share.  Different styles, different techniques, and very very different accents.  

Robert Crais talked about his main character, Elvis Cole, as if he were in the room with us.

I was in the third row this time, but, as always, on the aisle.

Three men who write thrillers amused themselves, as the moderator laughed along.

Moderating is a talent.  Joseph Finder, William Kent Krueger and Nick Petrie were lucky to have theirs.  He let them wander with their answers to the places that interested them, and asked the questions I'd have asked.

There were other heroes, like Don, who was streaming closed captioning 

with a court reporter's device at his fingertips and a big smile as he explained just what he was doing. There was the former Tucson Police officer who drove me in a golf cart all the way to my car, telling me that she was on duty that day and would always recognize me no matter how many years passed.

And, as I ate my bagel-and-lox-lunch,  there were these two.

No electronics.

No arguing.

Just new books.

This is my favorite weekend in Tucson.