An Outlook

My mother celebrated her 75th birthday on July 16. Most of you know that I have been writing this column for a long time and, not surprisingly, my mother and her exploits have often provided my subject material. So, in honor of her 75 years on this planet I am re-presenting one of her favorite columns.

By way of set up, you should know that August of 1999, several rumors were flying around the peninsula, including the falsehood that Mel Gibson was in Door County and that Oprah had purchased the “big house” in Ellison Bay. So I decided to have a little fun with the rumor mill while having some fun with my mother at the same time. So here’s a portion of what I wrote on August 17, 1999:

This past week also saw rumors of Mel Gibson visiting the peninsula. These rumors were also completely unfounded, though even after the Door County Advocate ran a small story disclaiming the rumors, the story continued.

A key aspect of the Mel Gibson rumors was that he was seen at DJ’s on the Bay, dining and signing autographs which, of course, though completely untrue, did provide the Sturgeon Bay restaurant with some easy – and completely FREE – publicity. So now allow me to tell you something about my bookstore.

As you have all probably heard, the writer Stephen King was involved in a serious accident this spring near his hometown in Maine. Following a series of operations for multiple fractures and various internal injuries, King has been slowly on the mend. During this time, however, he has been largely house-bound, a condition which began to wear on his patience.

King and I share the same first name, of course, and have corresponded periodically through the years and, in some of these missives, I have extolled the virtues of the peninsula where I reside. Well, lo and behold, a few weeks ago, Stephen wrote me that he was coming out to visit Door County and asked that I make arrangements. He explained that he was beginning to feel better (though he still fatigued easily) and that a change in scene might just be the perfect thing to jump start his writing and his continued healing.

Late July and early August do not present a wealth of opportunities for spur-of-the-moment lodging, so I decided that my mother’s condominium would be ideal and – somewhat surprisingly – both my mother and Stephen agreed.

Thus for the past several weeks, Stephen King has been staying with my mother. Most of the time he has spent writing or sleeping or on the phone with his agent. He has, however, upon occasion, stopped into the bookstore to grab an assortment of new reading material (my father’s bookshelves don’t contain much in the way of horror fiction). I should note, however, that during these forays, King is carefully disguised, since the purpose of his visit is recuperation rather than meeting his public.

A few evenings Stephen and I have sat for long hours discussing fiction, writing styles and methods, and whether the Chuck E. Cheese pizza franchise should change their name given the ongoing popularity of the movies starring an animated, blood-lusting doll named Chucky. Most of the time, however, I seldom see him.

I should note, at this point, that there is no truth to the rumors that my mother and Stephen have any type of romantic affiliation. Indeed, Stephen’s wife, Tabitha, arrived this past weekend to spend time with her husband on the peninsula and I can assure you that neither Stephen, nor his writing, is my mother’s cup of tea.

The week following the above appearing in print, I received a letter which I reprinted in my August 24, 1999 column followed by a few thoughts of my own. At the author’s behest, I withheld the name.

Mr. Grutzmacher –
I was so pleased to see you acknowledge the presence of Mr. Stephen King in your August 17 Reminder column. You have verified my sightings – which I relayed to various disbelievers – thereby rescuing my reputation as a credible reporter.
You see, while on a foray to “The Pig” recently, I spotted an individual who bore a remarkable resemblance to Mr. King. He appeared under the weather, huddled as he was in the corner by the meat department, but he was obviously on a mission. For, shaken as he seemed to be, he was madly scribbling away in a thick spiral notebook.
I’d assumed the gentleman was attempting to compose a quick shopping list – though, once in the store, why would you bother However, thanks to you, I now know it was indeed Mr. King, and the writing I’d assumed to be a grocery list was actually the great author caught in the act of researching his next best seller. For, as we all know, there exists nothing on this earth more horrifying that the shopping aisles of the Sister Bay “Piggly Wiggly” on a mid-August day!
I believe I’ll drop by Oprah’s this afternoon for some tea – I hear Mel Gibson’s going to be stopping in for a visit…….
Best regard,
[Name withheld]

After chatting with Mr. King this past weekend I can confirm that he has indeed been fascinated by the Piggly Wiggly. You see, just prior to his accident, Mr. King wrote a review of Thomas Harris’ new novel Hannibal for the New York Times Book Review. For those who haven’t read this novel let me just say that pigs figure quite prominently in Harris’ novel – and they’re most assuredly not of the “Wilbur” from Charlotte’s Web or the “Three Little Pigs” variety. Thus, Mr. King’s darkly inquisitive mind was naturally drawn to a food purveyor with the appellation Piggly Wiggly.

So now you may be wondering why my mother was so fond of these columns. Well, folks, it seems that a lot of people in 1999 read these columns and really did believe that Stephen King had stayed with my mother. She was stopped in the grocery store, at the post office, etc. And each time people wanted to know what Stephen King was really like. She was a mini-celebrity for two weeks for the wrong reason, and I was left wondering if satire was dead.

So Happy Birthday, Mom! You’re always a celebrity with this Stephen.