Make Friends and Influence People

Back in my driving days, I often stopped by the Starbucks at The Farmer's Market on my way to work. While the hustle of the crowds during the busier hours is quite literally a feast for the senses, there is something to be said about the peaceful feeling brought on by an empty group of tables in so early in the morning.


Around 8 or so this morning, I revisited my old hot spot to swing by Bob's Coffee & Doughnuts.

I'm certainly not the biggest fan of doughnuts but, truth be told, I'd volunteered to bring in AM goodies and they seemed easiest. So then, I bellied up to the counter and...


Holy moly. The aroma of coffee mixed with fried dough and sugar and chocolate and maple and sprinkles (yes sprinkles) and coconut flakes and certainly fairy dust caused my knees to buckle. Also, I may have drooled. Okay, I did. Just a wee bit, though.

With two boxes of doughnuts in my arms, I walked back to the bus stop. And boy, did I get some stares. A bit of advice: when you're having a crummy day, even a so-so day, carry a box of doughnuts while walking down a busy street. Every single person you pass (walker, driver, teenage hooligan) will make eye contact with you and smile. Their eyebrows raise, their faces glow and those corners of the mouth will start reaching for the ears. When I got on the bus again, I swear, every set of eyes followed those boxes until I took my seat.


On Saturday, I started The Impostor's Daughter by Laurie Sandell. On Saturday night, I finished it. I think it's been labeled a graphic novel...only it's a memoir. A "true memoir." Hmm...

It's easy to throw Sandell under the bus--she's created a tell all book exposing (one might argue selling out) her father. See, he is a con man. Through swindling, intelligence and luck, he's been a university professor, stolen untold amounts of cash from those who unfortunately trusted him and supported a family of five.

I've met more than a few people over the years who hold on to grudges against their parents. I'll not name names, but these resentments range from the ridiculous ("at my 5th birthday, my mom started singing before I was ready!" Not even kidding) to the unmentionable. And while we complain to others or bemoan internally, how many willingly share their woes with the world? This act alone is pretty brave. Not only does Sandell tell the story of her questionable father, she tells and illustrates her own. Without sugar coating it.

Stripper in Tokyo, accompanied by drawings. Ambien junkie/wino, accompanied by drawings. Screaming matches with loved ones, accompanied by drawings.

What I found most intriguing about it all was Sandell's big break as a writer. While entertaining her friends with tales of her father's transgressions, one friend "who was an editor at a prestigious men's magazine" suggests she write an article about the madness. Um, like whoa. Were it not for her father, would she have still been a successful writer? Hard to say.

One thing I do take issue with is this. Laurie's gig as a celeb interviewer requires lots of trips to LA where she stays (exclusively, it seems) at The Chateau Marmont. She doesn't exactly love LA. A scene of the hotel's lobby with labels and arrows directed at people's heads (hipster, B-list celebrity, aspiring actor, hanger on) accompanies this:

"The one thing that made it OK to go to L.A. so often was visiting Ben. I would have been so lonely among those flashy, fake people without him."

Really? Fake people at The Chateau? Color me surprised. Of course there are loads of these characters there. To assume that such a group represents an even mildly accurate representation of LA peeps as a whole is laughable.

But, don't get it twisted. Still loving this book. More soon.