There’s something to be said about living in interesting times, the 2025 Tucson Festival of Books (TFOB) was nothing if not interesting, and it turns out just getting there was more than half the fun!
I’m the one who made the flight arrangements, and until the day before we left Seattle, I was under the mistaken impression that we were departing from Paine Field which is north of Seattle rather than Sea-Tac which is south of the city. Fortunately, my daughter tumbled to that issue the day before, thus preventing our missing the flight altogether.
The problem with Sea-Tac is that it’s huge, and it’s also undergoing a massive construction project. It’s been literally years since I’ve negotiated it, and my how things have changed! These days most airports have more than one terminal. Sea-Tac is blessed with only one, and it is huge. Alaska Air passengers enter in the middle of that immense building to drop off luggage and check in. Then they’re directed to what’s essentially the southern-most end of the terminal to go through security. Then, if you’re departing from the N-gates you have to walk to the far north end of the building. For someone who walks 10,000 steps a day, that shouldn’t be that big a deal, right? But if you happen to be lugging a purse and a carry on, that’s a whole other story.
Once on the plane there was a hold on our flight. Turns out our pilots and six additional passengers were coming from Anchorage where there had been a huge snowstorm. As a result, our departure from Seattle was delayed. That shouldn’t have been that big a deal, either, but after I’d made hotel and flight arrangements in and out of Tucson, someone had the bright idea to set up a 6:00 PM signing at the Poisoned Pen in Scottsdale for that evening.
That should have been doable. After all, Tucson and Phoenix are a hundred miles—a two-hour drive—apart. But our flight’s approach into Tucson was really tough, and the landing was by far the roughest I’ve ever experienced. Then, while we were waiting for our luggage, a sign in Baggage Claim began flashing “High winds; Blowing dust.”
We left the car rental facility at three o’clock sharp. By the time we were headed north on I-10 there were flashing signs overhead saying the same thing: HIGH WINDS/BLOWING DUST. SLOW DOWN. (By the way, I realize I-10 mostly runs east and west, but there’s a big curve in Benson, and for the next 150 miles it’s mostly north/south.
As we hit the freeway, we could see we were driving directly into the storm, one that spread across the whole valley between distant mountain ranges. By the time we were about twenty miles north of Tucson, we were in the thick of it, and I do mean THICK! For the next forty-five minutes we were in stop-and-go traffic, three lanes wide, traveling at the amazing speed of three miles per hour! Everyone slowed down. There were no rear-ending mishaps, but it was nerve-wracking at best. Eventually I stopped looking at my watch. There was no point. As we neared Casa Grande, the dust let up and a few sprinkles of rain appeared on the windshield.
“Good,” I told my daughter who was driving Miss Daisy. “I’m not nearly as worried about rain as I am about dust.” WRONG! Within minutes the skies opened up, and we spent the next half hour driving at 25 mph with everyone’s flashers flashing. We made it to the bookstore for the 6:00 PM event at 6:06. By the way, it turns out that was part of the storm that roared across the better part of the country last weekend, leaving close to 40 people dead in its wake. We were very lucky.
Let’s just say, the Poisoned Pen talk wasn’t my best presentation ever because I was still rattled, but at that event, two outstanding things happened. Those of you who’ve heard me speak before may remember my telling about the encounter my first husband and I had with a serial killer outside Tucson back in 1970. One of my fans, who happens to be the killer’s first cousin, came to me at the signing and told me that, after being held in prison since the summer of 1970, the convicted murderer finally passed away from cancer on Tuesday of that week. That felt like the ending of a very long chapter.
One of the stories I told that night was about a woman who, when she retired in November of 2023, set out to read everything I’d ever written. Two weeks earlier, she had sent me a note telling me that she was finally caught up. Much to my surprise, she was actually in the audience at Poisoned Pen and had already reported that same story to the people seated next to her.
On to the festival. This was my fifteenth Tucson Festival of Books, but it was my first one as an eighty year-old. I had expressed some of my concerns about that to Bill Viner, the guy who is the head honcho of TFOB, and boy did he ever respond. I had attentive personal security escorts wherever I went. When I mentioned needing armed chairs for getting up and down, armed chairs showed up wherever I went—panels and signings, included. Usually getting my steps at the festival isn’t an issue, but this time, after being whisked around from place to place on golf carts, finishing my steps was a challenge. But I got them done—barely!
Being at the festival where I’m referred to as a “rock star,” is an amazing experience. I don’t know everybody, but everybody seems to know me. I treasure the moments where people stop by the signing table and mention how something from one of my books has touched them personally. One woman said that Joanna’s struggles with her challenging mother really resonated with her.
So now I’m home. Bill and Mary, our long-haired miniature dachshund, are glad to see me. I’m giving myself a day off, watching all the saved TV programs from last week, but I must take this opportunity to thank everyone at the festival—the security folks, the volunteers, and the fans who made my being there so wonderfully rewarding. Thank you one and all.