A Sliver, a Prayer, a Wink

Autumn. Druid dances. Sock hops.

Growing up, fall was always the season when everything seemed to happen. Still does. MLB playoffs started this week, and the story lines are emerging from football season. The NBA is tuning up. Hockey too. Sports seasons are too long by half. But what isn’t? Movies are too long by half, concerts, campaigns, banquets.

The only thing that isn’t too long by half is autumn itself.

Went to the first banquet of the season the other night. Banquet season also runs too long, basically now through spring, and if I gave to every worthy cause, I would become a charity case myself.

Yet, “Door of Hope” took some of my money, and I’m proud to support it. Based in Pasadena, this charity gets families off the street, and their success rate in keeping them housed and self-supporting is incredible. It makes a difference, and though homelessness is the most intractable issue of our time, “Door of Hope” has managed to give us a ray of promise.

That’s all I ask. A sliver, a prayer, a wink.

So easy to get down about things. I picked up a few items at the market yesterday. $100. Didn’t even cover the bottom of the grocery cart…box of Zip-Locs, some bar soap, loaf of bread. Who’s getting rich on all this? Not the farmers. Not the folks picking tomatoes. Paid $12 just for aspirin.

To really ease the pain, I also grabbed a bottle of Bailey’s.

My sidekick Steve is visiting for a few days, down from Mammoth Lakes. And I know he likes a splash of Bailey’s in his morning coffee, because that’s how we managed to get through the book we wrote together.

Hope you get a chance to meet Steve at one of our events this week. He’s got an extraordinary feel for the wilderness. It’s like a sit down with John Muir.

I know, I know. I’ve written too much about this book. Even I’m annoyed by all the shameless publicity. But “what’s a sun dial in the shade?” as Ben Franklin once asked.

Here’s a tidbit for you: We see these bears, a so-called “indicator species,” thriving in an era of climate turmoil. Their ranges are expanding, their numbers growing.

Remember when “bear country” meant Yellowstone and Yosemite? Now it’s Disney World and Sierra Madre.

Remember, too, the way bald eagles came back from near extinction? Well, same is happening with bears, mountain lions, major sea life —  all the indicator species.

The other morning, I heard this strange barking sound coming from the church parking lot. Turned out to be a bunch of North American teenagers, another indicator species that is overcoming tough times.

Bottom line: Nature is resilient. Nature is a beast. Given half the chance, it will fix itself.

So should we.

No one loves bookstores more than I do. And Vroman’s is an LA treasure. Props for having us out Tuesday night. It was standing room only — no surprise to me, given the great publicity we’re getting. The books sold out way too soon, and apologies to everyone who was left hanging. We could’ve sold another hundred. But please continue to support bookstores.

Unless we sip too much Bailey’s, Steve and I will be at Barnes & Noble at The Grove tonight (Wednesday Oct. 4) at 7 pm. The event is free. Perhaps the best LA session of the week will be Friday, at {Pages} book store in Manhattan Beach. This requires tickets, but the $35 covers a signed copy of the book, perhaps a sip of wine, and maybe a beer afterwards at Erc’s, the dive bar across the street. For info, please click here. Find “What the Bears Know” at {Pages} and other bookstores starting this week. If they don’t have it in stock, they can order it for you. To order online, please click here. Thank you.

The schedule

Oct. 4, Barnes & Noble at The Grove, 7 p.m., free

Oct. 6, {pages} a bookstore in Manhattan Beach, 7 p.m., a ticketed event (for info, click here).

Oct. 7, Mammoth Lakes Library, 2 p.m., free.

An excerpt:

[The bear I’ve dubbed ] “Big” is more than massive. He is also a very intelligent bear, so he understands that there are often loose dogs in the residential areas of Mammoth Lakes. He can triangulate their position and determine when they’re roaming free, not on leashes. In this case, the barking is moving too fast, closing the distance from when he first hears them to where they are a minute later. Suddenly, the 650-pound bear does something he has never had to do: Big begins to run for his life, through heavy pine forest, juking and zigzagging around rocks and trees.

As he runs, he hears the dogs getting closer. He is confused and disoriented by the barking; an unfamiliar weakness starts to burn in his legs. As he tires, he stumbles, losing his footing in the loose rock. Perhaps for the first time in his life, the king of the forest starts to feel fear.