Peddling literature to a retirement community

 In the nine months we lived at Vineyard Place, part of the Holiday "independent living" corporate octopus, I formed a readers theater group that performed two projects. One was original and one was from a scrpt I had written for First Unitarian Church in Portland; and I also gave a literary reading. (I used to write and direct a couple "drama services" a year.)

The literary reading was special in several ways. On the plus side, it was on my birthday and I wasn't selling any books. Literary readings usually happen at bookstores or universities and in the former venue, the whole point is to sell. 

On the negative, a retirement community was far from the academic environment I had lived in for the past twenty years. I had noticed that the reading tastes here were focused on pop lit. I didn't see anyone carrying around Shakespeare or Moby Dick. I was a fish out of water.

My motivation was different. I wanted to remind myself that I had a body of work I could be proud of. I wasn't rich and famous but my work had been praised by people with literary credentials, once praised over the top.

 An Oregonian columnist called me, a playwright, "one of Oregon's most precious natural resources." Yeah, right. He can be forgiven because he was from Wales. They look at writing differently over there.

On another occasion I emailed a media professor at the  University of Wales, who in a book had praised a one-act hyperdrama of mine. The first line in her reply was, "What an honor to hear from you."

I fell out of my chair. I couldn't imagine anyone in America telling me that. We look at writing differently over here.

What is it about Wales? 

Time for me to stop tooting my own horn. Well, one more time.

 Listening to the audio below makes me feel good about myself.

(The entire reading lasts 43 minutes. You can stop at any time with your back button.)

https://youtu.be/ZBTn1ulBvTU?si=a-vROqQ7Wbj436yI

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