Action and Adventure in August #15: The Search for Ross Gay

August comes to an end.  I didn't succeed at the blog challenge of 20 entries this month, but 15 is passable.  75%. A solid C.  I'll take it.  Thanks to everyone who blogged their actions and adventures. Kudos to us.

On this final day of the eighth month, I ventured out in search of the internationally famous poet, Ross Gay, who lives in our town. Husbandman didn't know that he was on this particular adventure, but he was indeed a passenger on my escapade. We started out at the community garden and orchard.  The garden is impressive, full of flowers and foods and finches.  The orchard less so.  Scrubby trees and rotting fruit.  I've heard tell that Ross Gay is an orchard organizer, so I had a hope that he might be there, pruning a pear tree or two.  No luck.

Next we headed to the Garlic Festival and the Fourth Street Festival. At the Fourth Street Festival, I saw a tall African American man at a booth representing a local arts organization. He didn't look too much like the photo of Ross Gay on his book jacket, but I walked closer anyway. I heard the guy introducing himself to someone and found out he was not Ross Gay.  I was embarrassed but decided to cut myself some slack.  This guy was tall, African American and an arts organizer, so I had at least some slim, barebones evidence for my brief stereotypical generalizing assumption.

There was a poetry stage set up at the festival, so I zipped over to check out the schedule of poets.  Ross Gay's name wasn't there.  I was embarrassed again because for Pete's sake, would a famous poet be standing in the middle of Fourth Street reading his poems to people wandering through a craft fair?  I think not.

This whole Ross Gay obsession is turning into another Meg Ryan wild goose chase.  I need to let it go and get on with my life.  It's pulling me into dashed hopes and embarrassment time and again.  Case in point.  We shared our Delights books with parents at Open House.  A dad asked me, "Did you read Ross Gay's book?"

"Yes!" I exclaimed.  "Do you know him?"

The dad said, "Yes."

I got fairly hyped at this point, "What's he like?  Is he nice?"  Come to find out, the dad did not actually know Ross Gay but he had heard him read his poetry a few times and admired his work as do I.

Maybe Ross Gay will be at The Comedy Attic watching Esther Povitsky.  I'll keep my eyes peeled. If you see Ross Gay, please let him know that I'm looking for him. Or, better yet, please don't mention me at all.  Let's just leave our eventual meeting to chance.