The Festival

This past weekend was the annual Scandinavian Festival hosted in little old Ephraim, Utah, under cloudy skies. It didn't rain all the time, but enough that I didn't set up my book booth on Friday. On Saturday, there were sunny spots scattered around the skies, so up went my booth. I spread out my books and greeted passersby and handed out some book marks. By early afternoon, I'd sold about half a dozen books.
Then it was time to go do my storytelling stint, so I recruited my 8-year-old son to watch the booth for me. (This took place at the Ephraim Co-op craft store, so there was a cash register nearby for him to send customers to.) While I was at my storytelling station, my sister surprised me. She'd driven an hour and a half to visit, so when I was done with stories, we walked among the craft booths and finally worked our way back to mine a couple of hours after I put my son in charge. To my surprise, he had sold six books in my absence!
So I left again.
No, not really. My sister took my son down the street for something to eat from one of the vendors, and I stayed in my booth, listening to several people tell me what a good salesman my son was.
He actually started out as a preschooler in a cow costume handing out flyers for my pioneer books. Come to think of it, no one ever refused to take one from him.
From now on, he's coming to all my literary events. That boy has some sales magic in him.