“On The Road” by Mort Laitner
Boynton Beach, Florida
Autumn—9:00 AM
I drive past the beautifully manicured green grounds of Valencia
Reserve. The air is crisp; the leaves dance the waltz,
I think,”These lucky residents must feel like they live on a golf course; many of them do.”
The fountains give this American-dream community a European flair.
“Is this what retirement is meant to look like?”
Carefree, worry-free, an early taste of heaven.
But I’m not here as a tourist.
I’m on an author’s mission— sell books at the Jewish Heritage Breakfast.
I pull up to the clubhouse.
I unload: my books, my DVDs, my posters and my dad’s leather medical bag.
Pride fills my body as my hand grasps the handle of the bag.
For years, my dad took this bag on house calls. I am touching a part of him.
The bag still houses his stethoscope, otoscope and reflex hammer.
“Does he hear my heart beat?”
The clubhouse has vaulted ceilings, fresh-cut flowers and a view of the golf course.
The large ballroom has a movie theater-size screen.
Ninety people sip coffee and eat bagels and cream cheese.
I talk. (They even have a transcriber who posts my words on a screen for the hard of
hearing.)
They listen.
I close, “Thanks for your attention.”
They applaud.
I sell books—mission accomplished.
As I autograph my books, one buyer says, “I saw two of your “Hanukkah Bunny”
books for sale at a school function in LA.”
Another purchaser chimes in and says. “I saw the “Hanukkah Bunny” book for sale in Dade
County. (Probably At Books and Books.)
A pretty good day on the road: I saw a version of heaven on earth, I held my dad’s medical
bag and I sold a bunch of books.
