Seeking Mr. Keillor

Garrison Keillor’s, “Summer of Love” tour was in Chattanooga last night, and I wanted to see the show. On-line tickets cost over $70, so I decided I would have to miss it, but I did go down to the auditorium to plug my book by sticking advertizing on cars and, if possible, get a copy to Mr. Keillor. (Of course he will love it if he only reads it.)
I know where performers’ buses usually park, so I drove down behind Soldiers and Sailors about two hours before the show and checked. Sure enough, two custom buses and a security car sat just across the street. I looked for signs of life, hoping no one mistook me for a crazed fan or a terrorist. Nothing moved.
I parked, grabbed the copy of my book that I had inscribed “to Garrison Keillor, Thank you for years of entertainment” and found a perch between the buses and the back door of the auditorium. Three or four persons came out for a smoke or a look around. I asked each if they could get my book to Mr. Keillor. Nope. One said, “Someone who can help you will be out shortly.”
Meanwhile, a very dark gentleman carrying a large valise and one of Garrison’s books walked up and asked in a Middle Eastern accent if I knew how he could get the book signed. He explained that he was an Ethiopian who wrote poetry and song lyrics in Amharic. He had driven all the way from Atlanta and said repeatedly, “Mr. Keillor is a genius.” I was incredulous and told him so. Who would think that the humor of “Lake Woebegone”, so couched in American culture and idiom, would resonate with a man from Ethiopia?
But there we stood, the Midwestern grandmother and the Ethiopian poet, waiting to connect with the man who, for that evening at least, united the two of us in a common goal.
We waited for another thirty minutes during which time a security guard and another man said it would be better to come back after the show. I decided to go swim and come back later to advertize, but I did not want to wait around outside until after eleven to see Mr. Keillor. I gave my new friend my book and told him to keep it if he did not get a chance to give it to Garrison.
I came back at seven carrying another copy of my book and several dozen business cards which I proceeded to distribute. Just before the show was to start, I went in and asked for a cheap ticket. They had several seats in the balcony for forty dollars, so I stayed. (A whole ‘nother blog and well worth the forty dollars.) Afterwards, I sat in my car in view of the buses and waited until the crowd cleared. Still, no one came out of the auditorium. Finally, I got up the courage to walk up to the first bus, praying all the way. The driver was sitting in the front seat and opened the door when I waved my book.

“Could you get this to Mr. Keillor?”

He said, “Yes,” and took it.

This is the fourth copy I have tried to deliver: one by mail, and three through people who told me they would “see what they could do.” So, maybe Mr. Keillor will get a copy; maybe he will read it; he will like it and ???