Cedar Cove, Debbie and the must read

One thing I can be thankful for during this long leave period and that is that I am not obliged to read anything by our town's favorite author. I have to admit, once was enough, but then again, I am not one to judge an author by one reading. What do I know? The gal is popular world wide, with books regularly appearing on the NY Times best sellers list. There has to be something to it all. I just wish I could see it.

We are getting ready to celebrate Cedar Cove Days here in Port Orchard. I don't know what to think of that, either. The city fathers and mothers are expecting a swarm of folks from out of town and around the world to descend on our little burg, ostensibly to wander around with Cedar Cove maps and try to match up the fictional places with the real thing. I am happy, in a large way, that my house has not figured into the drama. I suppose in some small way it did, years ago, but it wasn't quite enough to warrant an eternity in Debbie's tomes. Whew.

It was at that Gala back in 2005 that it all started. I suppose it ended there, too. My career of reading anything to do with Cedar Cove. Nonetheless all good things have a beginning, and I say good, as it was fodder for emails for a good long while. Not in the way that Dekker was. That was a bust and you know it. But Debbie's book, at this point I can't remember exactly which one it was that you purchased from her that night ("all proceeds go to the Foundation!") but you tasked me with reading it, too. How could I not go along with it, considering you were such a trooper when I asked you to read that one piece about Paraguay?

So I took on the task as one might take on a battery of unknown shots, just to see what kinds of reactions I would get. I got myself cozy and dove it. I have to admit it was good in a pedestrian kind of way, in the way that all good fictional cheese is. Cheese whiz. Instant beach food. A tasty read if you wanted to really shut down and not be serious. But that book was. Filled with characters that had lives and problems and love interests. It was a regular soap opera in print, filled with real howlers. I couldn't stay in bed and take that book on alone. I got up regularly and wrote you ("where are you? Did you read page so and so yet?") and then went back to reading. Laughing. Scratching my head.

Dumbfoundedness was the name of the game. I couldn't quite see the appeal, but read that book to the last page. A promise made was a promise kept. I mean, we were a reading group and all good reading groups must read what they are assigned. Thank goodness as we went on to reading many other wonderful authors and titles. But that takes me back to Debbie. I can say that I met her, made her laugh, which was return on her investment to me. I can say that I picked up one of her titles, which will further the name and lore of all things Port Orchard. I can say that I've eaten at her cafe, listened to her speak, and watched, not participated, in one of the biggest road shows to ever hit this burg.

But what makes my whole relationship with Cedar Cove and Debbie all so magical is that it started years before, well before any politico or Chamber type ever thought to have an event named after a fictional town. We took that reading seriously, as seriously as anything ever tasked to us. But we had a special edge. I wasn't commanded, and there was no payoff. Well, I suppose there was. And that was the eternal thanks for being a good sport and reading something that you picked and chose for us to read.

What's next, Professora?

Your WHMB