Some Days You Just Have to Eat Captain Crunch

Let me tell you a story:

Back in 2001, I went to Atlanta to attend the CBA (Christian Booksellers Association) convention in conjunction with a Christian speakers conference I was participating in. A big part of CBA (and all) book publishing conventions is book signing events. A publisher will bring in an author (the more famous the better) and have them sit at a table for a few hours signing giveaway copies of their latest book. The hope is that the booksellers who receive it will read it, love it, and order it for their stores.

Any attendee—not just store owners—is allowed to get in the queue for the autographed copy, though. It’s a book lovers dream! At the end of the conventions I attended, I actually made stops at UPS to mail home boxes of free books.

Back when I had worked at the now-long-defunct Christian Light Bookstore in Lancaster, I had gotten hooked on historical fiction from author Gilbert Morris, particularly his House of Winslow series, which followed a family from the Mayflower up through American history. They were a light fun read, and I liked them. A lot. Enough to buy each one as it was released.

And so when I saw on the program for that CBA in Atlanta that Gilbert Morris would be signing his latest in the series—Book 25: The Amazon Quest—I made sure to get in line, a very loooong line.

With celebrity authors (which Morris was then), there is typically a publishing house employee opening books to the appropriate signing page and slapping it in front of the author so he or she can scribble a signature without ever looking up. Sort of like an assembly line job. It was that way on that day for Morris.

Morris wasn’t a spring chicken. He was 72 years old as he sat in that uncomfortable folding chair repetitively signing books. As I approached the table and he signed the book to be handed to the person in front of me, I heard him mumble, “One of these times I’m going to sign it ‘Studs Morris.'”

“You can do that on mine,” I said eagerly as I arrived in front of him.

He looked up. “What?”

“You can sign mine as Studs Morris.”

He smiled. And then he did.

I like to think that that little interaction made his day a bit less monotonous. I know it injected a bit of silly fun into my day. And it still makes me laugh 18+ years later.

You see, sometimes you just need silly in your life. As my husband Les puts it, “Sometimes you just have to eat Captain Crunch.” Or, in his case, Oreo Os, which were his Sunday morning, before preaching, breakfast for several years.

How are you ensuring there is some silly in your life in 2020?
Adulting is hard.
Lighten it up with small touches of whatever brings you joy—
whether it’s eating that cereal that has no redeeming value
or imagining yourself as “Studs.”