-Eddie Cantor

It's Sunday night. As if following a step-by-step manual, my evening unfolds. The kids go to bed, the computer wakes up, the winds strengthens, the raindrops trickle, the electricity vanishes.

More specifically, it's 9:30 on the Sunday night before the Monday morning that my column is due and I have no computer. I started off with essential panic-knowing there won't be enough time to finish it in the morning.

Then I realized I did have another option. As desperate as it might sound I had a pencil, some paper and a green honeydew candle. Do I dare?

So, here I am, pencil in hand, by the light of a scented candle, using genuine lead to write my column.

Everything has suddenly slowed to a crawl tonight. I think I can actually hear the wax melting between the slowing drips of rain and the soft fizz from my pop can. I've even grown used to the assortment of sounds coming from my dog as she tries to get comfortable by my feet.

I'm a little calmer now, which proves to be a more productive state of mind. We are a busy people aren't we? Even miles away from bright city lights and 24-hour traffic, we're moving right along and moving fast.

It takes an act of nature or a similarly powerful force to step in front of us and leave us with no option but to stop. My plan had been to finish a half-written column that I knew needed more research. But I had talked myself into throwing it together and submitting it anyway.

Then down came the rain and out went the juice. It was clear I would have to try another angle. Being forced to slow down and start over took my mind back two weeks to the day I took my daughter Taylor on a special trip.

We both love the "Pigeon" stories, a series of children's books by the genius-as far as we're concerned-known as Mo Willems.

A couple of months ago, I heard Mo was on a tour that included a stop in Wichita. As huge fans of him and his Pigeon, we were extremely excited to circle that date on our calendar.

(It seems like it was just a few years ago that I was losing sleep over Def Leppard and Bon Jovi concert dates-now it's children's book authors. When did this happen?)

Finally, the day of the Pigeon arrived. We loaded up and headed down the road to the Wichita Public Library. The key to this incident is that Wichita and I do not mix. Drop me in any other city and I'll be fine. But Wichita and I only tolerate one another and have accepted that there is nothing more we can do for each other.

Twenty minutes before show time, we entered the city limits and I took what I believed to be the quickest route. A few miles later, I had my first suspicion I may be on the wrong side of town.

My standard Wichita phases began. First, confusion (didn't that sign say "west"?), then fear (what if I can't find a clear lane to merge into?) then anger (I'm never driving to this town again.)

As I was sulking, the lanes parted and I whipped around to redirect the car to true west.

We pulled up to the library a few minutes after the signing was to begin. Unfortunately, the library is by Century II Convention Center, which is packed with people, leaving no parking spots in sight.

Another 10 minutes later, we're out of the car hoofing it across three extra lots.

I was upset. At the clock, at the library, at Wichita, at the birds trotting across the sidewalk, at Mo Willems.

But it was Taylor who received the brunt of it.

"I can't walk that fast in these shoes," she said.

"We're late," I snapped, nearly dragging her across the pavement.

She dropped my hand and stopped, on the verge of tears, "It's not my fault."

No, it was mine. The bottom line-I should have left home 30 minutes earlier. Face it, there's always a wrong turn and I always take it. It wasn't her fault at all.

So, I slowed down. Then her excitement returned and we started to quote the Pigeon. We walked onto the library's third floor just in time to draw the Pigeon with Mo and to hear him tell a roomful of kids-including mine-to do what they really love in their own unique way because one else can do it exactly like they can.

We were just in time after all.