In Ivan Doig’s latest novel, he tells the story of Donald, a boy traveling from Montana to stay with relatives in Wisconsin. In the 1950s, Donal travels with his autograph book and collects signatures from random people along the way. These random people and their autographs play a central role in this novel by the well-known Montana author, published the very year of his death in 2015.
I remembered this novel after having lunch with my friend Peter. We meet about every six weeks to laugh, tell stories and make uninformed observations about the world and the changing seasons.
This week he surprised me by passing a copy of my latest column across the table and asking for my autograph. He wanted to know if anyone had ever asked for my autograph before. I had to think about his question for a minute.
I quickly remembered a children’s book I had written in the 1980s while working at a summer camp in North Carolina. On closing day, kids could buy a copy of the book at the camp store — with their parents’ approval — and then stroll over to a card table where I sat with a pen at the ready.
People also read…
I learned to say things like, “And how do YOU spell your name?” to avoid having to cross out faults. It seems more than a little tacky to scribble over the misspelling of a child’s name in a book they just bought.
More importantly, I learned to focus on one person at a time. It might seem like a huge risk for a child to approach an adult and ask for something as simple as an autograph.
A nervous kid blurted out, “I remember you next year.” Of course, the kid meant “last year,” but I understood the feeling and excitement of seeing someone you know and asking for a personal connection, an autograph, to serve as a reminder.
Thinking back to our lunch, I don’t know if Peter wanted my autograph as a reminder of our lunch – or if he secretly placed a credit card payment slip under the newspaper in hopes that I could sign for it. buying a Batman. auto license plate frame for his car or something equivalent.
Regardless of his motives, I understand the desire to ask for an autograph. I do the same when I attend concerts or shows. I know my motive. I want to establish a personal connection with an artist. I want to have a little proof of the time we spent together.
Several years ago, just for fun, I checked eBay to see if any copies of my book were circulating. With the book out of print, private sellers raised the price because they really had nothing to lose. My book, originally sold for about $6 by the publisher, now had an asking price of $250.
In large print, the presentation text indicated “dedicated by the author”. I wanted to know which child asked for my autograph many years ago – and now I hope to cash in on my immense popularity. I immediately emailed the buyer and shamed him into dropping the price to $10.
The only way this book could be worth $250 is if someone accidentally left a few hundred dollar bills between the pages with a $50 bill stuck on the back cover.
Years ago, a signature meant a lot. These days, even credit card companies ignore your autograph. As a test, I often do a few lines on the touchpad at checkout. No employee has ever grabbed the microphone and shouted over the intercom, “Manager up front! I have someone here with a fake signature!
The greatest compliment a child has ever given me came when a young girl handed me a Harry Potter book and asked me to sign it. I asked her if she wanted me to sign JK Rowling’s name and she said, “No, I want a real writer to sign this book.” I was more than happy to sign it.
THE AUTHOR Rick Brown lives and writes in central Nebraska, where he covers the arts and other subjects as a journalist and columnist. Rick@YardLightMedia.com.
