It Started With Pancakes, and then I Wondered About Their Secrets…
Greetings pancake and book lovers. This is my latest newsletter on Substack. Here are the first few paragraphs…
“Years ago, maybe a century, I was eating pancakes with my three kids at Tom’s Pancake House in Beaverton, Oregon.
I’ve been going to Tom’s since I was a kid, and now I bring my kids. I can see myself at 100 years old, cane in hand, hair whiter than snow, wearing bright red boots and shiny red lipstick, ordering pancakes in a screechy, old, but pleasant, voice.
That day I saw two women with white hair eating pancakes alone.
And I started to wonder things that writers wonder. In this case, it was: What secrets are those women hiding?
Yes.
Secrets.
Don’t we all have them?
So what were theirs?
I could hardly eat. I wanted to leap up and ask them about those secrets, but they would think I’d lost my head and my kids would probably be, again, embarrassed by me. I might get myself banned from Tom’s for nosiness.
Stymied, sulking, I dumped more syrup on my pancakes for nutritional reasons and added more butter for luck. I peered surreptitiously at the women. They were both very pretty and elegant.
They looked so innocent, but they weren’t, I told myself, then cackled, a scintillating story already swirling in my slippery brain.
That secret-laden pancake extravaganza launched my book “The Last Time I Was Me.”
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