Patience in the Face of a Smirk

When Kevin was a senior at TCU, he needed one more literature credit. He and a friend, Thomas, both chose a Science Fiction class to take. Their professor was interesting and likable. Thomas, who was from California, came home with Kevin for Thanksgiving that year. On the way from Fort Worth to Waco, they read aloud to each other from a book that was assigned for the class.

They kept on reading at our house, and I asked whatever WAS it that they were reading. Kevin showed me the book:  Zombies of the Gene Pool. Really.

It’s not exactly what you might think. It’s a mystery in which someone at a Sci-Fi convention is murdered, and that murder is solved. But, it’s funny (satirical, says one list). Kevin and Thomas grinned at each other.

“We think our professor wrote it,” Kevin said. “Just the way he talks about it.” I looked at the cover. “Oh, that’s just a pseudonym,” said Kevin. “We think it’s him.” The author’s name on the book was Sharyn McCrumb.

I went to my bedroom and got the library book that I was currently reading, She Walks These Hills, a novel set in western North Carolina. It blended together some folk lore, a tense present-day story, and the lyrics of an Early American ballad. The author? Sharyn McCrumb.

Kevin was shocked. “Sharyn McCrumb is a real person?”  Apparently so. The winner of “numerous literary awards,” her novels have been “studied in universities throughout the world.” (Also apparently so.)

Jay Omega, the main character in Zombies, is featured in another Sharyn McCrumb novel, Bimbos of the Death Sun. I read them both, and they are interesting and amusing, and I liked them. But not as much as I like the rest of her books.

Years later, I was in Nashville and some friends took me to Davis-Kidd Booksellers, a great bookstore that, sadly, has since closed.

There were two levels, and there was a little sandwich shop on the upper floor. We had some dinner, and then I walked around up there, looking at books, all the while hearing the sound of someone speaking into a microphone. I couldn’t hear what she was saying, just the sound of the voice.

One of my friends went down stairs to look through the books there. He returned a few minutes later, just as I heard some applause, at the end of the guest author’s speech, I supposed.

“That’s Sharyn McCrumb down there,” he said. “She was reading from her new book.”

“What!” I missed an opportunity to hear one of my favorite authors.

“She’s signing books now,” my friend said.

I went straightway down the stairs and begin to look for a copy of Bimbos of the Death Sun to get autographed for Kevin. I searched the Mystery section. I scoured the Sci-Fi section. I could not find it! I gave up and went to find a bookstore employee for help.

“I’m looking for a book,” I said to the young man. “Bimbos of the Death Sun.”

His face said that he was not familiar with the title.

“Come with me,” he said. “I can look it up.”

 At his computer terminal, he asked for the title again. Then he said, “Who’s the author?”

“She is,” I said, pointing back towards the line of people forming, wanting to get books signed. “Sharyn McCrumb.” I was a little bit surprised that he didn’t know.

He looked at me with a sorrowful, little smirky, pouty frown. “I don’t think so,” he said, with a hint of a chuckle.

“Look. It. Up.” I said, pretty coldly.

He looked up Bimbos of the Death Sun in his little bookstore computer and discovered, somewhat startled, that the book was indeed penned by well-known, literary award winning, studied in universities throughout the world, Sharyn McCrumb.

“Over here,” he said, still showing some amazement, as he led me to a table that held copies of all Sharyn McCrumb’s books. (I should have thought of that, myself.) “Thanks,” I said.

There were lots people in line, many with stacks of hard-bound books up to their chins. (Looked like lots of folks were going to be receiving autographed books for Christmas.) I joined the line, with my one little paperback. The person in front of me, with 3 or 4 books in his arms, looked at my single book, smiled, and nodded. “That’s a good one,” he said.

“I’m getting it for my son for Christmas.”

Here’s how it turned out.

In whatever you do, don’t let selfishness or pride be your guide. Be humble, and honor others more than yourselves.
Philippians 2:3 Easy-to-Read Version

I want to say that the kid deserved to be taken down a peg. But I feel like a failure in the  patience, kindness, and gentleness categories. I think that I’d do a better job if it happened now, instead of a few years ago. I certainly hope so.