The in-betweens

The beauty of doing nothing, plus some book news

Photo by Timon Studler on Unsplash

On Sunday I went to our local sandwich shop to pick up lunch. They were busy and I had to wait a while. That turned out to be a good thing.

Normally I’m like just about every other 21st century human in that situation—I take out my phone and check my email or scroll through social media. But for some reason, this time, I didn’t. I decided to just sit off to the side and watch the world go by.

I saw the half-dozen folks behind the counter pull off an intricate square dance of taking orders and making sandwiches and filling takeout bags and straightening chairs.

I saw a customer pop the top on a beer bottle with the opener bolted to the wall, and then rearrange the bundles in his arms in a multi-stage process so he could bend over and pick the bottle cap off the floor.

I saw a couple looking up at the menu board, the man brushing a soft circle with his fingers across the small of the woman’s back.

I saw a girl playing in the water where the rain from the night before had puddled on the sidewalk.

I saw what I assumed to be three generations—a grandpa holding the hand of a little boy still learning to walk as he toddled his way to his dad.

There were no breaking news alerts. There were no hot takes. I didn’t see anyone snap a single picture. It was a few minutes that will not be recorded anywhere except right here, I guess, and in memories.

The evidence seems overwhelming at this point that the phones in our pockets, while opening up a vast new universe of far-flung delights, have blinded us to the delights of the world right in front of us. We can’t see the trees for the forest.

Burying yourself in your phone is a DO NOT DISTURB sign to the rest of the world, a force field that prevents you from talking to a stranger, meeting cute, or just absorbing yourself in the daily miracle of being alive.

We might be missing big moments, of course, but what we are definitely losing are all the in-betweens, the times where nothing much happens except a warm feeling that lingers long after you’ve forgotten the details.

We could use more warm feelings.

Some of us have literally forgotten how to hang out, with friends or just by ourselves. I’m trying to find my way back to hanging out, letting nothing much happen, allowing myself to get bored. Sometimes, in those moments, life reveals itself. Those 20 minutes waiting for my order was the best 20 minutes of my day. It’s amazing how much something nothing can be.

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Some DOGLAND news: I’m honored to join Zibby Owens—author, podcaster, bookstore owner, and book community curator—at her book lovers’ retreat in Asheville on April 12-14. The retreat features discussions with several other amazing authors, bookstore tours, meals at some of Asheville’s best restaurants, and more.

There are just a handful of tickets left for the full experience, which includes a room at the Foundry Hotel downtown. There are a few more tickets available for a weekend day pass, which includes everything but the hotel. Zibby has been doing these events all over the country (my friend Chris Vognar wrote about the one in Austin). I can’t wait to be among the book lovers. Sign up while slots are still available!

(I also hope to be doing a regular book event in Asheville or thereabouts after DOGLAND comes out … stay tuned for that and other tour announcements.)

And of course, preorder DOGLAND now … you can have me inscribe your copy however you like, you can enter a drawing for a DOGLAND bandana and bookplate, or you can buy a copy wherever books are sold.

Thanks—
TT