What I Wish I'd Said to Studs Terkel

Several years ago, I went to a concert to watch one of my favorite bands perform. Before the concert started, I saw that the drummer of the band was standing near the front door, chatting with fans and signing autographs. I mustered up enough courage to go up to him and ask him to sign my ticket stub. 

I didn't say much to him, though on the inside I was thinking, I think you're totally cute and I kind of want to make out with you right now, except I don't like kissing guys in front of other people because I'm afraid that they'll start judging us and say, "That was the worst kiss EVER! What, are you trying to re-enact that scene from Dumb and Dumber where Jim Carrey looks like he's trying to climb into Lauren Holly's mouth when he kisses her?" I also kind of want to get a picture taken of us holding hands so that I can send it to all my friends, but I can't say any of this to you because then you'll think I'm some kind of delusional stalker and I'm really NOT one, REALLY!

But I didn't say any of this to him, of course. All I could say was, "Thank you," after he handed my ticket stub back to me.

Once I met Amy Tan at a book signing, and I managed to tell her, "You don't know how much it means to me to finally meet you." She gave me this big smile and said, "Why, thank you!" I can honestly say that that was one of the greatest moments in my life, to actually have Amy Tan, a writer whose work I'd admired for years, acknowledge my presence.

A few years later, I went to a book signing with a friend, and we saw Jen Lancaster there with her husband. It wasn't Jen's signing; she was there to support an author friend of hers. There were a couple empty seats next to Jen, and my friend wanted to sit next to them. But I was too shy to approach them, so after the signing I watched as my friend went up to Jen and talked to her for several minutes.

There were several things that I wish I'd been brave enough to say to Jen. I wanted to tell her how much I loved her books. I wanted to tell her about how people had always made me feel like I was a freak because I was so obsessive and neurotic, but she was the first person who made me feel like there wasn't something totally wrong with me. She was able to write about her obsessions with a sense of humor, which made me think that I could do something similar in my own writing.

I've always been very shy around authors, even though there's so much I want to say to them and so much that I want to ask them about writing. But whenever I encounter one of them at a book signing or another literary event, I can't think of anything intelligent to say, except stuff like, "Do you think Snooki's baby is fist-pumping in her belly right now?" or "I totally feel like hiding in a cave until people stop talking about Hunger Games. Do you?" They're people too, but they're people whose work I admire and who have inspired me and many other people with their ideas and the ways that they express themselves. 

Once I went to a literary event where several authors, including Studs Terkel and Stuart Dybek, were participating in a panel. I'd always liked Stuart Dybek's story "Pet Milk", but I wanted to ask him exactly where the couple in his story hooked up on the El train, because I couldn't figure out where on the train he was referring to. But I didn't ask him that because I thought he and everyone else might think I was planning my own hookup. (And can I just say that I don't even like to sneeze in front of other people, so you know I would never plan a public hookup. GROSS!)

I was also excited to see Studs Terkel, because he had published the ultimate book for workaholics: Working. He went around talking to people in all kinds of professions, including a garbage man, a nurse, a piano tuner, a prostitute, a fireman, and a bus driver. It was refreshing to read a book about people who thought about work as much as I did, whose work also meant more to them than just a paycheck. He sat with them and let them talk to him about their jobs. When I first read it, I wondered why all these people would be so willing to open up about their lives to a perfect stranger.

But when I saw Studs Terkel, I understood why. Even at ninety-plus years, he was more alive and animated than people who were decades younger than him. Even though he could have spent his last years relaxing, he chose to continue working and writing just because he loved it so much. And I thought, When I'm in my nineties, I want to be like that.

I wanted to tell him that I noticed that several of the people in his book said stuff like, "They don't care about us." "They" meaning their employers, corporate CEOs, customers, rich people, etc. I knew what that felt like. I wanted to tell Studs about how unfair it was that retail employees only got paid a fraction of what people in the corporate offices that controlled the employees' stores got paid. These corporate employees got huge bonuses but denied the employees raises and wages that we could actually live on, yet they tried to make us feel like we were lucky just to be working.

I wanted to tell Studs about how I'd been bullied by other students all throughout grade school and high school. I thought I wouldn't get bullied anymore when I became a teacher, but I was wrong. During my first year of teaching in particular, I made the mistake of letting myself get intimidated far too easily, and I didn't stand up to some of my students as often as I should have. It wasn't like one of those inspirational teacher movies where the students come around eventually and like their teachers so much that they form a singing group with them. It was a totally different world, where politicians and other people were quick to blame teachers for students' behavior, but they didn't blame the students at all. I felt like if I told Studs all of this, he would understand.

His book made me realize that there are workaholics everywhere, people who are also strongly affected by their work. The people in Working described the ways that their jobs defined their lives and who they were, and it made me feel like I wasn't alone. 

But I didn't say any of this to him. There were hundreds of people waiting to get his autograph, so all I could say was "Thank you," when he handed his book back to me.  But I really did mean it when I thanked him, because his writing helped me in more ways than one.

What about you? Who are your favorite authors? If you could sit down and talk with one of them, what would you say?