One hundred eighty-one. 

According to my grandson, Spencer Remington, that’s how many people showed up for my recent book signing. And after autographing well over one hundred books, the muscles in my hand are inclined to believe him.

Don’t get me wrong; I enjoyed signing my name and adding littles notes of encouragement. I must admit, though, every time I picked up that pen, I was worried I would misspell something. That’s a funny thing to fear after writing a whole book.

That’s right. This country bumpkin from Dongola somehow became a published author. That was never a dream or a goal. It just kinda happened. These little stories I’ve been telling all my life, well, someone decided they were worth putting into print.

Truth be told, at the book signing, I felt more like a racecar driver than an author. I just showed up and climbed into the car, while everyone around me did the real work. I’m mighty grateful for that. Lindsay, the event coordinator, did a wonderful job, and Amber made sure no one went hungry. I’m thankful for their phenomenal effort.

Can I tell you a little secret? I honestly wondered if anybody would show up. I thought maybe we’d get fifty people through the door, and most of ‘em would be family and employees. So now that I know we had 181 folks show up, well, it fills me with a pride I don’t quite know how to describe. 

My namesake granddaughter, Holly Francis, even called me from Chicago and told me the girls at the bank where she works wanted to read my book. She is especially fond of story 103, titled “My goodness. My goodness. My goodness.” And she should be... after all, I wrote it about her. 

The positive feedback has been overwhelming. Folks tell me they’re amazed at how many memories I have and how much detail I can recall. 

I just tell ‘em that every one of us has a journey. You just have to pay attention along the way. Life isn’t insignificant unless you treat it that way. The real magic is in the ordinary details.

You don’t have to be a rock star or a sports legend to live a meaningful life. Maybe you’re known for being the best lawn mower on the block, the winner of the church chili cookoff, or the nicest cashier at the gas station. That’s more than enough.

One gentleman pointed out Chapter One and told me I was fortunate to have the father I had. He said that if more parents taught their children the way my dad taught me, we wouldn’t have half the problems in the world today. I like to think he’s right. 

I’d also like to think that these little life lessons will help others find joy and meaning in their own lives. Or, at the very least, maybe we give ‘em a chuckle or two.

If you’d like to purchase a copy, just head over to Amazon.com and search for “Francis Pass.” There’s also a limited supply available at the Little Egypt Arts Association building on the square in Marion.

Then, the next time I see ya, I’d be honored to sign it. 

Be well. Stay well. Thanks for readin’.

- Francis Pass

P.S. While I’m proud of every single story in the book, there is one chapter that haunts me to this day. You’ll find it on page 229.