Just because Bill is no longer with Happy doesn’t mean she won’t always remember him. In the way of all the best things in life, his memory will live on for many, many cheeseburgers to come.
Have you ever had an experience like Happy had with Bill? I have. Every once in a while, I read a book like this. And then I pour through all the books I can find, hoping to get the same kind of satisfaction that I got with the first book (or series of books), but none of them are quite right. Some might come close, and I give them lots of credit. Still. Not the first book (s).
Then, one day, I get over my obsession with book #1, and eventually happen upon another book I love, and the process starts over.
This, to me, is the definition of a great story. When you just can’t stop thinking about it, when you scour the world to find something else that compares, when you become almost obsessive in your love of the main characters. That is some dang good reading.
It resonates, sticks, changes you. It’s what I hope my writing will someday do for just one reader.
That will be good enough success for me.
But, you know, if my book happens to get a high spot on the NYTBL, that would be really good too.
Showing posts with label Bill the Cheeseburger. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bill the Cheeseburger. Show all posts
Monday, April 26, 2010
Friday, April 23, 2010
Meet Bill, The Cheeseburger in Paradise
Back in January, my family and I went on a trip. I came back and wrote a post about climbing a volcano. You can read it here if you’re interested.
What I didn’t talk about in that post was a highlight of our trip. It was a cheeseburger, and its name was Bill.
We’d just climbed a huge, freaking mountain with lots of stairs. Yes, stairs. It was totally worth it, and the view was spectacular and blah, blah, blah. And by the time we got to the bottom, we were both exhilarated and exhausted, even though it was only about eleven o’clock a.m.. So, we’re in the parking lot, and there’s this enormous yellow truck with a picture of a snow cone on it.
Who wouldn’t want a snow cone after a climb like that in 80 degree weather? But my daughter—you all know her as Happy—didn’t want a snow cone. She needed some protein, and begged for a cheeseburger instead. Which the yellow truck of deliciousness happened to serve.
So, while the rest of us ate ginormous balls of multi-colored snow drenched in sugar, Happy very carefully carried her little white box to the car, where she reverently opened the top and inhaled the heavenly aroma of a freshly grilled burger. “Don’t you just love that smell?” she said.
She then made me take a picture.
As soon as she bit into that thing, she made all kinds of noises that told everyone how absolutely she was enjoying this burger. “Here, mom, take a bite. You’ve got to try this,” she said. And then, “Everyone, I want you to meet my new best friend, Bill.”
I did, and she was right. It was a really great cheeseburger. And I’m not much of a burger eater. Still, as great as it was, I’d have forgotten it by dinner if not for her almost comical insistence that the whole family share in the glory that was…Bill.
We then spent the rest of our vacation looking for a cheeseburger that could measure up. We even paid astronomical amounts to eat at a famous restaurant that was featured on a food network program (I forget which one, probably DDD). But none of the burgers we bought her ever quite measured up.
Bill the cheeseburger will be remembered in our family forever. May he rest in peace.
Oh to be twelve again, with a metabolism that burns through everything!
Check back Monday, for more about Bill.
What I didn’t talk about in that post was a highlight of our trip. It was a cheeseburger, and its name was Bill.
We’d just climbed a huge, freaking mountain with lots of stairs. Yes, stairs. It was totally worth it, and the view was spectacular and blah, blah, blah. And by the time we got to the bottom, we were both exhilarated and exhausted, even though it was only about eleven o’clock a.m.. So, we’re in the parking lot, and there’s this enormous yellow truck with a picture of a snow cone on it.
Who wouldn’t want a snow cone after a climb like that in 80 degree weather? But my daughter—you all know her as Happy—didn’t want a snow cone. She needed some protein, and begged for a cheeseburger instead. Which the yellow truck of deliciousness happened to serve.
So, while the rest of us ate ginormous balls of multi-colored snow drenched in sugar, Happy very carefully carried her little white box to the car, where she reverently opened the top and inhaled the heavenly aroma of a freshly grilled burger. “Don’t you just love that smell?” she said.
As soon as she bit into that thing, she made all kinds of noises that told everyone how absolutely she was enjoying this burger. “Here, mom, take a bite. You’ve got to try this,” she said. And then, “Everyone, I want you to meet my new best friend, Bill.”
I did, and she was right. It was a really great cheeseburger. And I’m not much of a burger eater. Still, as great as it was, I’d have forgotten it by dinner if not for her almost comical insistence that the whole family share in the glory that was…Bill.
We then spent the rest of our vacation looking for a cheeseburger that could measure up. We even paid astronomical amounts to eat at a famous restaurant that was featured on a food network program (I forget which one, probably DDD). But none of the burgers we bought her ever quite measured up.
Bill the cheeseburger will be remembered in our family forever. May he rest in peace.
Oh to be twelve again, with a metabolism that burns through everything!
Check back Monday, for more about Bill.
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