Labor Day Lazy!

You knew I would post before Labor Day, didn't you? I'm being lazy, and looking forward to two days at home with no plans. In preparation for the coming forty-eight hours of laziness, I have opted to write nothing of consequence this week. Instead, I am posting pictures with no discernible theme.

Here we go!

This my friend, Albert, from Taiwan. His real name is quite complex, and his entire family picked American sounding names to make it easier for people to remember. Albert was an exchange student at Lincoln High School a number of years ago, and he chose his name figuring there would not be too many Albert's. He was right. His dad selected "Castle" as his American name. Albert is back for a visit and to attend a friend's wedding. We had some fun trying to teach him "Knock Knock" jokes last week, but the language barrier was too great. Even though he laughed a lot, I don't think he ever quite grasped the concept.

Now, on to a couple dog pictures...and Karen!

This is Karen working real hard at our last Heart-A-Rama writing meeting. Apparently, she was sitting in Max's chair, and with her there, he was having a tough time watching dog TV out the back window. Finally, out of frustration, he deemed the only way to solve the problem was to share the chair with Karen.

Here's my dog, Mrs. George Burns (GB) . She had a short-lived romance with this little green toy. She has quite a collection of stuffed things to toss around, but a couple weeks ago, I decided it was time to get rid of some the more beat up specimens and get her a new pal. I don't what happened - some sort of demonic possession, I suppose. She bonded with a vengeance to that little green thing, and would not make a move without it. If she lost it at night, there was weeping and whining, until I searched through the house for it. After four consecutive 3 A.M. scavenger hunts for the beast, I tossed it. I am still getting the cold shoulder, and I expect that one of these days, I will find that she has run away from home to spite me.

The store bathroom is getting painted!

Customers look forward to the seasonal changes festooning our entry "mingos" La, De and Da. Here they are, ready for fall.

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We have three author events coming up, a pre-holiday event is in the works with a couple other small businesses. I will be attending a trade show in Minneapolis at the end of September to get a look at what's new for Fall/Winter.

Have a lazy Labor Day everyone!

Night Reading by guest blogger Steven Head

I like to read in bed before going to sleep. I find reading takes my mind off those events of the day that linger in my consciousness and keep me from rest. And I especially like reading a short story. Beginning, middle, end. Good night.
“Bonfire of the Vanities” was without doubt my worst bedtime read. It took forever and I kept thinking how self-indulgent it was. I still read regular length novels before bed, but I prefer short stories.
Laura Lippman’s new book, “Hardly Knew Her” (HKH) was both a treat to read and the discovery of a marvelous author. There is something you need to know up front. Laura’s fiction is in the mystery genre and most of the stories have at least one dead body. In the “Girls Gone Wild” section the protagonist is often the one doing the killing. And getting away with it. The first couple stories of this collection reminded me of the old Alfred Hitchcock television show where things go along very normally until the end when the tale takes a very hard right down a dark alley of impulsive acts, mayhem, and twisted justice.
Up until HKH everything I knew about Baltimore was provided either by John Waters or the HBO series, ‘The Wire”. The bulk of the HKH stories involved this Maryland city where Laura was a reporter for the Baltimore Sun. Some of her characters would be right at home in a Waters production. And others talk and behave like the bad actors from “The Wire”. I’m still not sure I know what Baltimore is like but it reads a lot more interesting than where I live.
Detective Tess Monaghan is a known quantity for those familiar with Laura Lippman,. HKH includes two Tess stories and a mock newspaper write-up on Ms. Monaghan. These are stories fans of Tess should find satisfying.
For the most part I’m not a fan of female detectives and mystery writers. I’ve hopped around the alphabet with Sue Grafton, traveled to the Wind River Reservation a hand full of times with Margaret Coel, and dabbled with other women mystery authors. I find male mystery authors and detectives more satisfying. And my next mystery is going to be a Tess Monaghan novel.
If you’re looking to take a good book to bed, think about approaching “Hardly Knew Her”. You won’t regret it in the morning.

Odds and Ends

Look what just came! Really. I just opened it and had to share. OK, so I know, realistically, that it has nothing to do with our TR, but it was fun to see the title emerge from the manila envelope just the same. Since I haven't had a moment to dig into it yet, I'll "Read" the inside flap to you. Ready?

I lifted my head only when I sensed someone standing in front of me. The sun was bright behind her, but I could make out the silhouette of a young girl, maybe sixteen, seventeen years old, her belly swollen like an egg. An apparition. A cruel trick of my mind, intent on its return, as always, to Betsy. Her name found its way to my throat, but not through my lips. I squinted against the sun, and quickly realized that this was not a ghost, not Betsy, but a real girl. A girls with skin the color of blackberries, holding a suitcase, her hair dripping river water onto my legs.

What happened after this (the moments that followed, the months that followed) I can only explain as the acts of a man so full of sorrow he'd do just about anything to get free of it. Here I was at the river again, with only moments to decide. Forgiveness. For twelve years, I'd only wanted to say I was sorry, but before this there was no one left alive to offer apologies to.

Sometimes I cheat a bit and write my post on Friday and go live with it on Monday. Yup! That Two Rivers galley came on Friday, and I did get a chance to start it over the weekend. This books is compelling. The plot reminds me of Plainsong by Kent Haruf...not a bad thing! Sometimes, when a book alternates chapters from past to present, I get distracted. But Greenwood's conversational tone allows me to focus on the plot and the characters without having to wade through linguistics tricks and structural formalities to get the big picture. Obviously, the pregnant girl with skin the color of blackberries (love that phrase!) will be a catalyst for some sort of epiphany on the speaker's part. He is haunted by the memory of his wife who died in childbirth, but something sinister has been alluded to briefly, as well. Maggie (the blackberry girl) has secrets of her own yet to be revealed, but I get the impression that they are real, honest, justifiable secrets, not soap-opera-esque.

Earlier this week I received a box of 25 young adult galleys, and had arranged them in priority order. I started (and got stuck on) one called The School for Dangerous Girls. If that sounds like a Lifetime movie, you're not too far off. That's why I'm having trouble with it, I guess. Still, it falls into the pre-back to school reading of which I am so fond...and I really appreciate young adult novels. But, it appears I will be abandoning those bad girls who have been assigned to Hidden Oak even though I have not yet learned what their individual indiscretions have been. So far, the staff appears more twisted than the students, and....oh, (heavy sight) I believe I have just talked myself into finishing that one before moving on. Two Rivers is set for publication in January, so I have a while.

Since writing this last Friday, I did finish. Long ago, I promised myself that I would not complete a book I did not like. By long ago, I mean, I made that decision in high school. That led to numerous incomplete assignments, but after a heart-to-heart with a 10 grade English teacher, I was allowed to propose alternative readings. As a matter of fact, he often slipped me crumpled pieces of paper with a book title written in tiny script. It was all rather James Bond like. So, he was making suggestions for me to suggest to him as alternatives.

For some reason, I finished this lousy book. I guess I thought that some fantastic twist would emerge in the last pages, making the rest of it worth my time. I was duped. The cover was screaming "Trite," "Predictable," "Stay away, " but noooo, I dug right in and...heck, I'm obsessing. Enough!

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Remember that book I was whining about having lost, misplaced, loaned...or perhaps it was stolen? That's it, in the hot little paws of my animal, Mrs. George Burns. The truth is, I finally gave in and bought a new copy of The Miracle of Language. Yes, I do buy books from the store, it keeps the accounting tidier. I was so happy to have it back that I devoted a Sunday afternoon to re-reading it. An occasional brush with Lederer keeps me tuned to how delicate, yet powerful the English language is. However, because of its depth and versatility, its misuse can have hilarious consequences.

Some time ago, my friend, Margarette, sent me these, shall we say, misguided, metaphors from high school students' essays. Enjoy!

• Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two sides gently compressed by a Thigh Master.


• His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a dryer without Cling-Free.


• She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like the sound a dogs makes just before it throws up.


• He was a lame as a duck. Not a metaphorical lame duck, either, but a real duck that was actually lame, maybe from stepping on a land mine or something.


• My personal favorite: Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.
  
  

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On Sunday, I went to Artstreet in Green Bay. The weather was perfect for absorbing some creativity, and I ran into a few friends. Paul Benson, from St. Paul, was there with his beautiful dichroic glass work. I think I might add some of his pieces here at LDD. Greg Pagel and John Salerno, both Lakeshore natives, were playing with a jazz ensemble on the mainstage. John, now Dr. Salerno, teaches at UW-GB, and Greg plays in any number of combos in the area, and is an amazing musician. Try to catch him next time you see that he playing somewhere.

Greg, and his friend, Jeff, a screenwriter, and I have an interesting project in the works. Because Jeff does not live in the area, we will be working long distance. We think that computers may ease the challenges, but I'm not so sure of that. I have given us three year to complete, Greg thinks it will take four, and Jeff hasn't chimed in yet. So far, our preliminary work has consisted of Greg and I brainstorming, and then Jeff going into work mode. I also suspect he gives up sleep during these busy spells, since he comes back to the table with some nice work. Our goal is to start work in earnest this fall when both of Greg's wee ones will be in school. That's all the information you're getting on that!

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Hey kids, if you're headed back to school soon, I'm sure your teachers have a load of great books to suggest. You do the same. I know you have been reading, too, and have many fine opinions on what you have enjoyed and why. And, if you're asked to write an essay at some point in the semester, please try not to mix your metaphors, and never begin or end a sentence with and.

George and Emily in Our Town

Gypsy George and the Open Road Love Affair was on hand last Wednesday night, joined for harmonies and some cello accents by our own Emily Trask. What a night! Of course, they are talented. I had no doubt. And yes, they are both loaded with personality, which translated to a ton of showmanship. But, what I found myself mulling all night was this thought...here are two amazing people on the the brink.

Let me back-up a bit and say they are both wildly successful already. George has written music for film, including a project developed by Salma Hayak. Emily has been performing professionally since she graduated from college, and she is headed to Yale in fall (I love saying that.) She'll be working on her MFA in Theatre. Those accomplishments alone would fill a lifetime for most of us. That is why I say they are on the brink. They are just beginning. But, no matter where the open road takes them, individually or together, my one hope for them is that they don't miss today.

Too many of us spend our days rushing to tomorrow and we miss this day, this moment...this breath...the very elements that allow us to have a tomorrow. The everyman speaker in T.S. Eliot's poem "The Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock" tells us "I have measured out my life with coffee spoons." He has savored life in small helpings, tasting both the sweet and the bitter.

Madison native, Thornton Wilder, embraces that same theme in his classic play "Our Town' in which the main characters are named - ironically- George and Emily. The play is intentionally slow, some would say even boring. Traditional productions use no props, and little scenery. That combination of perceived boredom, and starkness allows the audience to drift. If things work as they should, in no time, viewers will be thinking "I can hear my grandmother's wooden spoon hitting the sides of her frosting bowl on Saturday afternoon, " or, "Sure enough, there goes old cranky McGee's dog, barking after the postman again," or "Is that heliotrope I smell?"

Whether we see Emily accepting a Tony award at some time in the future (which we will) , or hear George's name being announced as winner of an Emmy for "Best Movie Score" (which we will) , we can only guess what excitement, frustration, challenges, rewards, tears and smiles lie between then and now.

I was lucky that Emily came home this summer and agreed to work here at LaDeDa. She worked with us for several years at our downtown location when she was in high school and college. Her roots in Manitowoc are solid, and her ties with the store and everyone who works/ed here are strong. When she is home, it is as if no time has passed.

I was lucky that Emily brought George around. One of my friends, (no name - she'd strangle me with an English ivy vine) admired his perfect Greek nose, his Mediterranean complexion, his mysterious eyes, the subtly tight biceps...there was too much on her list to go into. Is a discussion of his Greek nose warranted here? I think not. But I'll tell you what I do like about him. George is cautious. There was no big bear hug when we met, no overly demonstrative hello's or goodbye's. Instead, he hovered on the outskirts of my work life, watching and deciding where he fit, and even if he wanted to fit. I think he found a place. He shared just enough for me to know I'd like him to share more. I think he liked it here. I believe he knows he's welcome.

Here you all are, enjoying the night. Emily turned the camera on you...asked for silly grins, and you obliged. Aren't you glad you did?

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What am I reading? Atomic Lobster by Tim Dorsey, in honor of the annual Lobsterfest sponsored by Rotary. It's a madcap mystery with shades of Hiassen and Sedaris.

I also started Carlos is Gonna Get it. This young adult revenge novel is part my yearly new school year ritual. Although I'm not teaching high school any more, some habits are worth maintaining.

An A+ Weekend in Manty

My satellite dish went psycho last week, just in time for the Olympics! The picture freezes periodically, so I have to unplug the dish for one minute, plug it back in and wait for 3-5 minutes for it to find the satellite signals again. That works until the next freezing, which is usually in 15-30 minutes. Dish Network is sending me a new gadget, and in the meantime, I am able to watch channel 26, and only 26, with a trusty old pair of rabbit ears. I did get to see the spectacular opening ceremony, and have caught some swimming and gymnastics.

With this lack of TV catastrophe looming and no "Big Brother" to feed my reality TV addiction, my only option was to leave the house and enjoy Manitowoc. I had a grand time doing so! I started off by attending the Peter Quince production of "Fame" at the Capitol Civic Centre. This was a double treat. First, I was reminded of how stunning the Capitol is, thanks to a hardworking, selfless group of individuals who powered though much opposition to preserve this building for our community. They spent hours fundraising, scraping gum off the floor, doing general demolition work, painting...and they remain on hand, along with many new volunteers...to preserve and protect.

Then there was the Quince play itself. What a bunch of troupers. As a sometime theatre director, I know what they face year after year - the scheduling nightmares, the set pieces that don't work, missed rehearsals due to illness, fundraising woes, the difficulty of learning lines, blocking, lyrics, harmonies and dance steps - I could go on and on. Despite the challenges, they thrive. 2008 marks year 40 for this group comprised of 12-23 year-olds. Reading their bios, I see that many plan to study theatre in college. Others want to go on to be engineers, teachers or business owners. Some will leave Manitowoc and make their homes elsewhere. Those who choose to stay will have many opportunities to continue to hone their theatre skills here in the Lakeshore and make our arts community even richer through their contributions.

I also went to the local artists' exhibit at the Rahr West. There was no end to the variety and quality of talent displayed there. Two pieces were standouts for me. One was of a pensive sea captain painted by Sandra Murzyn. The other was Tim Woodcock's reinvention of the "Casablanca" movie poster, with Tim and his wife, Jo's, images as the stars. It is a complete mystery to me how a blank canvas can evolve into something so evocative. Get there before the show closes.

The last stop on my all-Manitowoc weekend was the West of the Lake Gardens. Breathtaking and serene. Serene - until I was yelled at by the on-duty gardener for stepping too far into a garden to get a picture for you! But I understood. These gardens are perfect, and surely don't need my big old footprint messing up the details.

Now...turn off your TV's, and go out and experience your community. There's so much to do you'll have to cancel sleeping to take it all in. Here's a short list ...

Wednesday, Aug 13

At LaDeDa...Gypsy George, L.A. based singer songwriter playing in the backyard beginning at 7:00

Thursday and Friday, Aug 14 and 15

Showtime '08. check out some fine local talent on a floating stage near City Hall. This annual fundraiser is organized by Tom Drill. You gotta love that guy, and you gotta support this event.

Friday, Aug 15

Not far from the showtime site is Persimmons, an addicting little art and vintage shop (located across from the Strand ) http://www.persimmonsgal54220.blogspot.com/ . Stop in and check out Tina Kugler's solo show. She'll be debuting her Sputnikfest poster - a whimsical retro design with a clever homage to Evergleam Aluminum trees snuck in

Speaking of Sputnikfest....Be there. check it out at http://www.sputnikfest.com/.

Masquers has a great season lines up, and be sure to watch for A Taffetas Christmas at UW-Manitowoc, December 4, 5, 6 and 7 (matinee). This is the same group that brought you "The Taffetas" and "The Honky Tonk Angels." Watch for tickets to go on sale and get them early. These shows sell out fast. I'll post rehearsal photos once things get moving on the show.

Hell, Hummingbirds and a Couple Chickens

I own a bookstore. With a single key stroke on my computer, I can order just about any book in print for myself, and still, friends loan me books all the time...unsolicited. My loaner pile consists of In the Lake of the Woods, from Pat, Breakfast with Buddha from Tom, A Thousand Splendid Suns from someone, a lot of insisting by Brenda that I read the "Sisters Grimm" books (but so far no copies have appeared!) and the book you see on the left, from Todd.

My intentions are always good. I like getting suggestions from others, and if they believe in a book so strongly that they bring me a copy to read, then I will read it...at some point. Since I mentioned Waiting for Godot in a previous post, it seemed time to read these Sartre plays, since they are structurally and philosophically similar to Beckett's work. I can't say that I enjoy the existentialists and their premise that we have total freedom but are rendered incapable of living fully because we are trapped by responsibility. Sartre goes so far as to call life a "useless passion." Not a happy bunch, for sure.

There are both spiritual and atheist existentialists. The whole lot of them are cranky, but Sartre is the crankiest. He even declined the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1964 citing his '"integrity as a writer" for his refusal. Oh well!

Despite Sartre's grim demeanor, I like his plays. His thesis of No Exit is "Hell is other people." That's quite a concept. In the play, three people are trapped together for eternity in a location with a couple doors that lead nowhere, and no mirrors. They only have each other. It's interesting that Sartre claims to be an atheist, yet he acknowledges the concept of eternity in this play. Each time I read the play, I think about what people would be the worst for me to spend forever with. Conversely, I am sure that I would be on many most unwanted lists. I prefer to flip the situation and answer an equally difficult question - "If you could choose two special people to spend eternity with, who would they be?" I am glad that some things in life are beyond our control!

On a happier note, I read a little book called Flight of the Hummingbird : A Parable for the Environment. It was my way of celebrating His Holiness the Dalai Lama's visit to Wisconsin. He wrote the afterword called " Universal Responsibility." This tiny book is a moving parable expressing the power of taking small steps to achieve a big goal. With origins among the Quechan people of South America, and the Haida of the North Pacific, this story has become a talisman for environmentalists and activists throughout the world. The book, simply illustrated by Michael Nicoll Yahgulanaas, inspires us all to act on behalf of the world's limited resources. Because it asserts that we can consciously make choices and do something, I am sure that Sarte would hate it. Too bad he didn't try opening the right doors.

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I received a funny little email from my friend, Colleen.

Why Did the chicken Cross the Road?

Oprah: Well, I understand that the chicken is having problems, which is why he wants to cross the road. So instead of having the chicken learn from his mistakes and take falls, which is a part of life, I am going to give this chicken a car so that he can just drive across the road and not live his life like the rest of the chickens.

Anderson Cooper - CNN: We have reason to believe there is a chicken, but he may have not yet been allowed access to the other side of the road.

Dr. Seuss: Did the chicken cross the road? Did he cross it with a toad? Yes, the chicken crossed the road, but why it crossed I've not been told.

And since we have talked a little philosophy in this post:

Aristotle: It is the nature of chickens to cross the road.

From Lindman to Lippman

Those galley copies just keep rolling in. Each day, two or three arrive from individual publishers, and once a month, I get a huge box of them from one of my trade associations. Last week, this short story collection by Laura Lippman turned up so I figured it was time to give her a try.

I love short stories. While others were reading Hemingway's For Whom the Bell Tolls, I was entrenched in his Nick Adams Stories. No Scarlet Letter for me. Instead, there were the Tanglewood Tales. Hawthorne's "Young Goodman Brown" still figures high on my list, so full of mystery, veiled evil, and desperate goodness. His ss style is less formal than his novel approach, so they are sneekily didactic, instead of blantatly so.

Nothing, nothing, nothing tops "Bartelby the Scrivener" for me. That short story, - well, if I am to be accurate I'd call it a novella - was so perfect, that I was never tempted to tackle any of Melville's other work. Bartelby came into my life quite by mistake while reading Emerson, the most perfect of all essayists. The book's forward intimated that Emerson's quintessential piece, "The Transcendentalist" had inspired Melville to write "Bartelby" That was all I needed to send me off to the Manitowoc Public Library where I picked up a Melville ss collection in mint condition, although the pub date was the mid-50's. There were also multiple perfect copies of Moby Dick on the shelf. Also basically unread. Apparently, at that point in time, readers had abandoned the classics for hipper titles by guys like Richard Brautigan (Trout Fishing in America), and subversive offerings such as Burn this Book by Abbie Hoffmann. No matter. I had the book all to myself, with total confidence that there would not be a waiting list in the event that I needed to renew.

Bartelby is a scrivener, a copyist, in a London law office. He wanders into the office, applies and gets a job. He is quiet, odd, secretive, and emotionally paralyzed. When asked to perform any work duty, he simply says "I prefer not to." For some reason, the rest of the employees just work around him. Bartelby becomes a fixture in the office - another desk, or chair. Eventually, he stays on after the office close, living there rather than taking the risk of going out into the world filled with expectations. I am sure that Bartelby is the archetype that morphed into Didi and Gogo in Waiting for Godot by Samuel Beckett. "Bartelby the Scrivener" is witty, poignant, sentimental and scary. Melville's language is properly formal, and his symbolism, brilliant.

Years after discovering this story, I decided to sneak it into the American Lit class I was teaching - a class filled with eager junior boys and girls! I was ready for groans. I anticipated the pleas to be spared reading the long, long, long short story. My standard speech went something like this: "This is my favorite story, and if you know what is good for you, it will be your favorite, too. Anyone who feels otherwise is welcome sink your teeth into this," at which point I did my best Vanna White impression holding up a huge copy of Moby Dick. Using a large print edition magnified the horrifying possibility of having to read it.

Bartleby has stuck with me, resulting in my personal homage to Melville. The protagonist in my never to be finished novel is named Moby. The name works better than Bartleby, and the symbolism will be evident if I ever get to a final draft.

I figure that a love of short stories should be part of our collective unconscious. Didn't our parents read little stories to us each night before bedtime? Didn't we all check out the maximum number of story books allowed per week at the library? I remember putting librarians to sleep with my unedited verbal summaries of each book, just so I could get a stamp on my summer reading record sheet. In those days, I couldn't read enough Flicka, Ricka and Dicka books. This was a series of treasured books by Swedish author-illustrator Maj Lindman (1886-1972). She also wrote and illustrated stories about three little Swedish boys named Snipp, Snapp and Snurr.

Well, now, what about that Lipmann book? I'm not sure how to classify it. The stories are mainly mystery. The plots are clever, and the endings are always unexpected, although at times a little too O'Henry-ish for me. Most fall into the "fiction for angry women" genre. As I finished each story I decided that enough was enough. I understood Lipman. I had done my professional duty and sampled her wares. I set the book down and walked away, fully intending to return to the "real" book I was working on. In short order, the Lipman book was back in my hands, and I polished off another story or two. Darn. This book is addicting and Lipman knew it would be. I have no doubt that's why she titled the first story in this sassy collection "The Crack Cocaine Diet"

So Long July ... by guest blogger, Steve Head

Over 30 years ago I read J.P. Donlevy’s ‘The Saddest Summer of Samuel S’. I’ve forgetten the plot. The only character I remember is Samuel S. But I do remember the title. It’s like the guitar riff from the Stone’s ‘Satisfaction’.

I can’t say 2008 has been my saddest summer but the blues are just starting to lift as we enter August. I spent most of July immersed in a spectator sport. Starting the Saturday after July 4^th the Tour de France bicycle race started in the Brittany region of France. And for the next 22 days I watched segments of live coverage, rebroadcasts, and prime time highlight coverage of the 3,500 kilometer, about 2,170 miles, of racing on cobble stones, through villages, over historic bridges, up and down the Pyrenees and then the Alps.

This passion woke me for one 5:30 am early broadcast and a couple 6:30’s, at night I’d click off the prime time show, hop in bed looking forward to watching the live morning coverage before going to work. I watched the leaders of the various individual competitions change hands. And I saw a lot of bike crashes on slippery wet and dry surfaces in towns, on mountains, and on the long rides through the countryside.

It was with pride that I watched the 2 American sponsored teams, Garmin Chipotle and Team Columbia. George Hincapie, veteran who helped Lance Armstrong, shepherded the young Team Columbia to a good showing, including 4 stage wins by Mark Cavendish, a British cyclist to watch for in the Olympics. And American Christian Vandevelde of Garmin Chipotle finished in 5^th place in the General Classification category, only 3 minutes and 5 seconds behind the winner.

But on Sunday the 27^th the 95^th edition of this bicycle race finished in Paris as the remaining 145 riders circled the Champs-Elysees eight times. And I was sad. The feeling is similar to finishing a good book. It was fun to do and it would be great if it could go on, but it had to come to an end.

I miss seeing and listening to the blend of US, British, and Australian commentators, along with the on-the-road reporting crew, from Versus TV, formerly Outdoor Life Network, who were the guides of the Tour. Coverage was on-the-road action, Tour history, personal recollection since most of them are former Tour riders, and gorgeous scenery.

And even though I know at the end of next July I’ll still feel the same let down at the completion of the Tour, I’ll still watch. And I might even trying doing the on-line fantasy bike team competition Versus started this year. And over the coming months I’ll check into the Tour website, (www.letour.fr/indexus/html) to learn of the plans for 2009 and look at press releases.

Maybe it is time to revisit Donlevy and Samuel S. I remember being glad I’d read it and hope it will be satisfying once again.