[CLAPPING]
Well, thanks a lot.
I'm a huge fan of Tucson.
And so to get to come here is a dream for me.
One of the great gifts of falling in love with novels
is being able to disappear into somewhere else, and same
with records.
And I think it was Calexico.
Maybe it was Black Light, that record that I started
dreaming about--
I want to live in Tucson.
Can't I live in Tucson?
And all day long, when I'd be working or doing
whatever and listening to Calexico, I'd be in Tucson.
And then I got to play gigs in Tucson.
Then you're like, wow, I wanna live in that neighborhood.
I want to live in that house.
I want to live over there.
I want to have the-- this town where I grew up in Reno has
the grandmother--
unwanted mother-in-law shack in the back of every house.
[LAUGHTER]
And Reno has that, too.
And I was like, Jesus, I want the unwanted mother-in-law
shack somewhere.
[LAUGHTER]
So I feel always lucky to come here.
And I'm really honored to be here because I just--
fuck, I just like being here.
And I'll figure out somehow to live here, at least part time,
someday.
I'm not there yet.
So thank you, Kate, and everyone here for letting me come.
The Free is taken from the national anthem.
The Free was a book I wrote, really, because of one night.
It was all things I'd been thinking about.
But one night, I went to a paint store.
And I was a house painter for 13 years.
And so you go to the same paint store maybe four days a week.
And you become friends with the clerk, maybe, for 20 minutes.
You always wait-- I always waited for the one guy
that I like.
'Cause he could--
I chewed Copenhagen for years.
And he was the only guy I ever met that could chew.
And no one knew that he was chewing except me.
[LAUGHTER]
And I liked him.
He was a pretty funny guy.
And so luckily, I got to quit painting.
And then I had to go back to it a couple of years later.
And when I was there, the second time around,
I waited for the same guy.
And I caught up with him.
And he'd had a kid that had autism, severe autism.
Him and his wife were already fighting,
and his life was falling apart.
And you could tell it just on his face.
He looked bad, gained weight, everything of a guy struggling.
And then, there he was, selling paint in retail every day,
all day.
And I thought about that, and I was heartbroken for him.
And then I left and I went to a party at a bar.
And on the news, there was just this two-minute segment
on soldiers coming home with brain injuries.
And I realized that we'd been in Afghanistan and Iraq
for seven years at that point, or something like that.
It was around seven years.
And I didn't even think about it at all.
Portland, Oregon, isn't near a military base.
You don't have to think about it, if you don't want to.
Our local paper had marginal articles about it, if at all.
The local radio stations never talked about it.
And here I was, at this party.
And there's all these stories about soldiers coming back,
wrecked.
Even the ones that had both arms and both legs-- their minds,
wrecked.
And I just felt ashamed of myself
for not worrying about it, and not doing more.
Is it just one person, citizen to say, hey,
why are all these kids getting messed up and no one
really knows why.
And the military in America, now,
is almost like a second society.
You don't have to see it if you don't want to.
They take kids from towns where there's no other options.
And it's a professional army.
And I feel bad about that.
And then at the same time, it's really hard to get health care.
And this is right before Obamacare.
And you can say what you will about it.
But if you've ever been in your 40s trying
to get health insurance, and no one will take you
and you can't call up a doctor and get a physical--
you just have a form.
You fill out a form and-- like a credit card form.
And then you get it back, and they say, no.
And the more times you get, no, then the worse
it's off for you.
I guess it was all that, and really,
that one night that made me finally
sit down and write The Free.
And also, I've always--
I mean, I've always had a thing for nurses.
I'm one of those lame people that
love waitresses and nurses, and I
have since I was a little kid.
And I'm not smart enough to grow past it.
But I just-- I love nurses.
And the older I get, I keep thinking, I'm gonna die.
And I wanted to write a nurse--
a really good nurse before I died.
And so I think The Free just--
during that time, made me so angry
that I wanted to write The Free.
But also, I was like, well, I can be as angry as I want,
but I have my nurse with me the whole time.
[LAUGHTER]
And so the book really became about a working class
guy at a paint store, and about a nurse,
and about a National Guard electrician, who's
in the wrong place in the wrong time in Iraq
and comes home with a brain injury.
I didn't plan or want-- oh, and it's not
my place to write about war.
But everybody knows what it's like to take care of someone
with a long-term illness.
They either are around it-- their family--
everyone has to deal with it.
So that's my point with the character, Leroy, is--
we sent him over there.
And now he's spending his whole life paying for it.
And really, the only one that advocates for him--
all the weight is put on his mom's back.
So, I guess I'll just start reading from three sections
from-- to the three main characters.
The first section I'll read about is Freddie McCall.
And Freddie McCall is a working class guy
whose kid was born with a severe disability.
And his wife and him split up.
His wife remarried.
And now he's in his family home that he'd had--
that his grandfather had.
And he'd mortgaged it to pay for his hospital bills.
And now he's growing marijuana in the basement.
This buddy of his said that it will make him extra money
so he won't lose his house.
And the idea behind it is, if you push in on this guy--
if you put him--
his back to the wall to the point where he's helpless,
he'll break the law.
He'll do something you don't want him to do.
And Freddie's at the breaking point.
And here's just a small segment of an honest guy getting
derailed.
The other thing to know is he works two jobs.
He works at a group home for disabled men
at night, where the soldier is.
And then he works at a paint store during the day.
"At 6:00 the next morning, he left the group home
and drove to his house.
Even in the freezing cold, the smell of the plants
drifted up from the basement.
Would the smell travel?
Would his neighbors smell it?
He'd been avoiding them for almost two years,
since his wife and daughters left.
What did they think of him now?
And if they smelled the marijuana,
would they know what it was?
Mr. and Mrs. Hughes were old, and they didn't worry him.
But the Jacksons weren't.
Richard Jackson worked for the fire department.
Maybe he suspected something already.
He started the shower and turned on the box heater.
He put his paint store clothes next to it,
set the kitchen timer for 10 minutes, and got in.
As he stood under the hot water, he
looked at the old white shower tile
and remembered his grandfather installing it,
his grandfather smoking cigarette after cigarette,
with greased back hair, making sure each line was straight.
He'd been a perfectionist.
It was his bathroom, and it was his house,
and now Freddie was losing it.
He dressed and drove to Heaven's Door Donuts and parked."
The other thing about writing that's really fun,
is you get to invent things that you wish had happened.
Speaking of Copenhagen, which I don't recommend for anybody,
but I worked for Copenhagen for a while.
So, I just drove around from store to store.
But they had a lot of paperwork-- two hours
of paperwork.
And I messed up the paperwork every day.
So, I always had to do it again.
And so I did it at this donut shop called
Annie's Donuts in Portland.
And it's the best donut shop that I
think has ever been invented, except the lady was nuts,
and she was mean.
And I kissed her ass every day, hoping she would like me,
'cause I went there every day.
And she never liked me and--
[LAUGHTER]
I'm not the most likable guy, but shit, come on.
[LAUGHTER]
So, in this story, the donut lady's
the greatest lady of all time.
So--
[LAUGHTER]
"He dressed and drove to Heaven's Door Donut and parked.
He walked inside to see Maura leaning
against the glass counter in red sweats and a white apron.
She was watching the news on a portable TV that sat on a shelf
in the corner of the room.
'Hey, you're 10 minutes early,' she said.
'Well, Dale was late on time, for a change,' Freddie said.
Maura moved her large body back and bent down
and sighed from the effort.
She took five donut holes from the lowest shelf,
and put them in a plastic basket.
And set it in front of him.
She poured him half a cup of coffee.
Freddie drank from it and took an old hockey puck
from his coat pocket and set it on the counter.
'Well, I was looking through some boxes last night,
and I found this.
It's from the '82 season when the Winter Hawks won the WHL
Championship.
I'm not sure what game it's from,
but there's writing on it.
It's my dad's handwriting.
It says, '82 Hawks.
It's my after-Christmas Christmas present to ya.'
Maura picked it up and flipped it over and read the writing.
She grabbed his hand and squeezed it.
'Thank you,' she said. 'Maybe it's from the championship
game.'
'Maybe' he said.
"Well, let's just say it is."
"All right," she said.
She took her purse from the shelf below the register
and put the puck inside it and leaned down on the counter
again.
'Boy, you really do look beat this morning, Freddie.'
'I know, but I'm OK,' he said. 'Are you sure?
Maybe you should go see a doctor.'
'I'm OK.
I really am.'
He ate a donut hole and washed it down with coffee.
'Well, did you get a chance to talk to your daughters last
night?'
'Well, I did what you told me, and I wrote down
a list of questions.
And that seemed to work better.
We were on the phone twice as long that way.
But you can tell they get bored.'
'Well, kids have no attention span," she said.
'You know that."
Freddie nodded and picked up another donut hole
and set it down.
He looked at Maura, and suddenly tears flooded his eyes.
He couldn't explain why it happened right then.
But he began to sob right in front of her.
'What's wrong Freddie?" she asked.
He stared at the rows of donuts below the glass counter.
He leaned across to her and whispered,
'Well, I just can't keep going like this.'
Maura reached over and put her hand on his arms.
'I know,' she said.
"How could you?'
'I'm sorry,' he whispered and wiped his eyes.
'Well, don't be sorry.
It's OK,' she told him.
'Tell me what's going on, Freddie.'
When he finally spoke, his voice was raw and so
quiet it was barely audible.
He couldn't look at her when he spoke.
'Well, I keep making bad decisions.
Why are all the decisions I make-- why
do they always turn out bad?
I'm gonna lose my house.
I'm gonna lose everything.'
He wiped his eyes on his coat sleeve.
'And I've failed everybody.'
'Now, don't say that, Freddie.' 'But it's true.'
'It's not.
You've known me here, for what, 13 years, right?'
He nodded.
'Think of all the nice things you've done for me.
When Raymond left me, you'd come in here every morning.
And you could tell just by looking
at me that I needed help.
I didn't even have to say anything,
and you'd invite me over for dinner.
Your family took care of me.
And you listen to me, Freddie.
And no one listens to me.
You made me want to keep going when I didn't want to.
So don't say you're a failure.
You've never failed me.'
She walked out from behind the counter and went to him
and put her arms around him.
She smelled of donuts and soap.
And she was soft and warm.
He collapsed into her and closed his eyes,
as two white work vans pulled in front
of the donut shop with their headlights shining in on them."