After fighting through traffic for an hour, I was grumpy and questioning whether it was all worth it by the time I set foot inside Cathy's home at 7:10 pm Tuesday.
"Do you see Matt Welch much?" I asked Cathy.
"Now and then," she replied. "Why? He lives just down the street. If you want me to drop something off to him..."
"Yeah, here's the hardcopy edition of my new book," I say quietly, but filled with pride inside.
"Did you bring me one?" asked Cathy.
"No," I said. "Only those who wrote something for the book."
I asked Cathy to write a foreword but she didn't. Frankly, she's shown minimal interest in my whole Jewish journalism project.
Frankly, most of my friends have shown minimal interest, if not downright hostility, to my last three books. It's a big mistake to write books to impress friends and family. It rarely works. Certainly hasn't in my case.
I could write the number one book on a certain topic and many of those closest to me would still be convinced I was an idiot who needed to be bossed around.
I'm listening to the book A BEAUTIFUL MIND on tape. John Nash reminds me of me without the genius.
I sit in the kitchen as Cathy puts the final touches on tonight's bean casserole. I drink Cecile du Bois' lemonade.
"You shouldn't have dressed up for me," I say.
Cathy wears faded bluejeans and an indifferent (though plunging) long-sleeved green top.
"What?" she says. "What's wrong with this?"
"It's very nice, Cathy. I don't want you to think that I don't appreciate it.
"I do remember the days when you always put on a fresh dress and some make-up before I came over. You'd greet me in high heels [and a black whip]."
Yesterday seems so far away.
Cathy's bean casserole is delicious. She points out how it is superior to the bean dishes I grew up with. She's competitive in everything, even her beans.
Over dinner, I show my book Yesterday's News Tomorrow: Inside American Jewish Journalism to Cathy's father Harvey. He's fascinated. He starts paging through it. This gets Cathy's attention. It's the most she's ever paid to my last project.
I read her sections where she is quoted or discussed. This rivets her.
Cathy wants to know if there's an index so she can check which pages she's mentioned on.
"I will give you a copy, Cathy, if you will read it and write about it on your blog."
She agrees.
I run to my car. There's a six-foot torrent of water, about two-inches deep flowing down Cathy's street. I'm soaked as the rain pours down.
I bring her back her book.
We sit in the living room. I want us to read to each our favorite selections from Yesterday's News Tomorrow but Cathy insists that our entire conversation must not revolve around me.
Cathy's dog Linda licks our plates clean. That is the custom in the Seipp home. If you eat there, I encourage you to bring your own dishes.
Cecile takes a bath and goes to bed. Cathy gets annoyed that Cecile did not leave the water in the tub so she could bathe too.
Ewww!
Another Seipp family custom.
I sit back and take great pleasure in watching Harvey enjoy my book. He wants to buy four copies. He asks me for a discount.
