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Yesterday I learned something new about my own near geography.  If you drive Route 422 all the way out—until it's no longer a highway but a traffic light road, until you cross the Schuylkill River several times, until the road starts to bank and curve, until you reach Penn Avenue—you'll find your way to West Reading, a most-happening place.  They teach ballroom dance in an old theater, serve gourmet meals out on the street, offer tasty cheese at a well-appointed wine bar, sell shoos spelled just like that: shoos.

And in The Wise Owl Bookstore, an independent as adorable as they come, shop owner Kira makes room for special events created by the very special Sue Lange (pictured front and center).  Yesterday was open mike day, and I was there, aligned with other writers and readers, for a memorable evening of stories and talk.  Teresa, my kick-butt combat teacher, stopped by.  A tawny cat slinked beneath chairs.  Stuffed owls hung suspended in time.  And that left elbow in the front row? It belongs to none other than the fabulous A.S. King.  (It's not that my camera neglected King, by the way.  It's that she ducked.)

In times like these—in any times—it is heartening to find a thriving town, an intellectual community, and a young book lover who chose to risk an enterprise that is subtitled "clever books for clever people."  I was proud and happy to temporarily stand among the clever.

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