It is October 11th, and FIRST is doing a special tour to ‘Say Goodbye to Hollywood Nobody’.
Lisa Samson and her book: Goodbye Hollywood Nobody
NavPress Publishing Group (September 15, 2008)
These days, she’s working on Quaker Summer, volunteering at Kentucky Refugee Ministries, raising children and trying to be supportive of a husband in seminary. (Trying . . . some days she’s downright awful. It’s a good thing he’s such a fabulous cook!) She can tell you one thing, it’s never dull around there.
Other Novels by Lisa:
Hollywood Nobody, Finding Hollywood Nobody, Romancing Hollywood Nobody, Straight Up, Club Sandwich, Songbird, Tiger Lillie, The Church Ladies, Women’s Intuition: A Novel, The Living End
Vist her Website by clicking her picture. (ISBN#9781600062223, 192pp, $12.99)
I awaken to a tap on my shoulder and open my eye. My right eye. See, these days it could be one of four people: Charley, Dad, Grampie, or Grammie.
Oh well, might as well go for broke. I open the other eye.
â€œDid you sleep well?â€
I shake my head and reach for my cat glasses. â€œNope. I kept dreaming about Charley in Scotland.â€ We sent her off with her new beau, the amazing Anthony Harris, two days ago. â€œI imagined a road full of sheep chasing her down.â€
â€œThat would be silly. They would have to know she hates lamb chops.â€ Grammie sits on my bed. Yes, my bed. In their fabulous house. In my own wonderful room, complete with reproductions of the Barcelona chair and a platform bed of gleaming sanded mahogany. I burrow further into my white down comforter. I sweat like a pig at night, but I donâ€™t care. A real bed, a bona fide comforter, and four pillows. Feather pillows deep enough to sink the Titanic in.
She pats my shoulder, her bangled wrists emitting the music of wooden jewelry. â€œUp and at â€™em, Scotty. Your dad wants to be on the road by seven thirty.â€
â€œI need a shower.â€
â€œHop to it then.â€
Several minutes later, I revel in the glories of a real shower. Not the crazy little stall we have in the TrailMama, which Dad gassed up last night for our trip to Maine. Our trip to find Babette, my mother. Is she dead or alive? Thatâ€™s what weâ€™re going to find out.
The warm water slides over me from the top of my head on down, and Iâ€™ve found the coolest shampoo. It smells like limeade. I kid you not. Itâ€™s the greatest stuff ever.
Over breakfast, Grampie sits down with us and goes over the map to make certain Dad knows the best route. My father sits patiently, nodding as words like turnpike, bypass, and scenic route roll like a convoy out of Grampieâ€™s mouth.
Poor Grampie. Dad is just the best at navigation and knows everything about getting from point A to point B, but I think Grampie wants to be a part of it. He hinted at us all going in the Beaver Marquis, their Luxury-with-a-capital-L RV, but Dad pretended not to get it.
Later, Dad said to me, â€œItâ€™s got to be just us, Scotty. I love my mother and father, but some things just arenâ€™t complete-family affairs.â€
â€œI know. I think youâ€™re right. And if itâ€™s bad . . .â€
He nods. â€œIâ€™d just as soon they not be there while we fall apart.â€
So then, I hop up into our RV, affectionately known as the TrailMama, Dadâ€™s black pickup already hitched behind. (Charleyâ€™s kitchen trailer is sitting on a lot in storage at a nearby RV dealership, and good riddance. Iâ€™m hoping Charley never needs to use that thing again.) â€œWant me to drive?â€
Yep. I still donâ€™t have my license.
Man. But itâ€™s been such a great month or so at the beach. So, okay, I donâ€™t tan much really, but I do have a nice peachy glow.
Iâ€™ll take it.
And Grampie grilled a lot, and Grammie helped me sew a couple of vintage-looking skirts, and Iâ€™ve learned the basics of my harp.
I jump into the passengerâ€™s seat, buckle in, and look over at my dad. â€œYou really ready for this?â€ My heart speeds up. This is the final leg of a very long journey, and whatâ€™s at the end of the path will determine the rest of our lives.
He looks into my eyes. â€œAre you?â€
â€œI donâ€™t know,â€ I whisper. â€œBut we donâ€™t really have a choice, do we?â€
â€œI can go alone.â€
I shake my head. â€œNo, Dad. Whatever we do, whatever happens from here on out, we do it together.â€
For additional info or to purchase click the bookcover. Visit Lisa’s site by clicking her photo. See what other FIRST Bloggers have to say by clicking the logo and using the list on the FIRST blog. A review will be coming.