Anne Lamott

Last night, I went to hear Anne Lamott speak. Many of my readers will know her from her work--religious books, such as Traveling Mercies; or Operating Instructions, her memoir of her first year as a single parent; or the indispensable Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life.


I thought I was doing well to arrive 10 minute early, but when I got to the St. Louis Ethical Society, where the event was being held, the parking lot was packed with liberal-bumper-stickered cars whose drivers had all realized there were no more spaces and were jockeying to get back out again. Cars lined the side streets, and I squeaked into the parking lot of a Baptist church a block away.


I tell you, it did my heart good to see that a person whose books have provided me with much sustenance over the years could draw a standing-room only crowd in St. Louis. If Hollywood is to be believed, the Midwest is a bastion of conservative, literal-minded Evangelicals, but as I looked around the room at the audience (who ranged from childhood to vigorous old age) I had a strong feeling of being among the largest gathering of my people I had found since arriving in St. Louis. These were writers and feminists and parents--and many of us were all three.


I can't possibly hope to sum up the evening, which ranged from Lamott talking about three ways she challenged herself in the past year (going to Africa, getting a tattoo, and learning to ballroom dance), to reading an essay about a skiing debacle, to answering questions from the audience (everything from "What have you learned this Lent?" to "How does your son Sam feeling about being written about?"). She's the kind of person that you just want to be friends with--all at once feisty, funny, unapologetically liberal, neurotic, honest, and wise. Looking at the crowd--especially all of us in the back who had relinquished our personal space and stood there patiently for an hour and a half--reminded me of the power of words to touch people's lives and bring them together.