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Doped up on a splendid mix of allergy meds & mimosas, I wander down 5th & Brookes. I am seeking the Open Air Literary Salon. A nun in drag, of The Sisters of Perpetual Indulgences, with a golden mask, greets me. Ayup, this must be Hillcrest.

I spot the San Diego Writers, Ink table and bee-line over to meet Zoë, Flo and Lynette, the devoted volunteers fielding questions from dazed & crazed editors posing as field reporters and some regular folks. Author Drusilla Campbell is on my side of the table.

"I hope your books {Wildwood and Blood Orange} sell out," Zoë encourages. Drusilla offers any sales profits to SD Writers, Ink. Zoë thanks her.

"We are Persian sisters," Drusilla explains.  "I feel our connection."

Brought together by books, the fine folk of SD Writers, Ink create bonds through personal connections and relationships. They are a joy to be with during Cityfest. The driving force behind San Diego Writer's Ink, Judy Reeves, is easy to spot, as I have read her bio on WORD a few times. She is a vision in pink, not quite cotton candy, but something more reassuring, very warm and inviting. Maybe we are "Persian sisters, too."

I had missed Drusilla's reading, but am in time for the amazing memoir panel moderated by Thomas Larson. My first thought, as the panelists take their seats, is these guys are too young too write memoirs (plural as there were three of them). Then, I think (to myself, natch) even a kid can have a memoir-able life depending on details. However, I am not prepared to be emotionally touched and instantly, personally connected to these strangers. Funny thing about writing, ain't it?

As Thomas attempts to gather in more listeners, he says the Hillcrest crowds "are lost in existentialist angst, waiting to be discovered or published." He introduces Steve Montgomery, whose memoir is about growing up gay in Idaho, amidst Mormons. A truly gifted writer, the title vignette from his book Boy of Steel, about his mother and a pageant costume, reminds me of a happy "side effect" of my mother's manic depression - her obsession with designing and sewing our Halloween costumes.

Next up is Suzana Norberg, who I think of as an edgier, more honest Meg Ryan and even before she mentions her stand-up career, I hope for it. Parasite Lost - Escaping the Husband from Hades is more than another story of a woman shedding her unhealthy marriage. It's full of beautifully captured "characters" - the " Pfffft"ing Serbian Grandmother who sneers at "Ljubav." (love) and the drawling, smooth-talker Texan, she marries for a handful of shaky reasons, are classics.

Patrick McMahon steals the show, and my heart, with his reading from Becoming Patrick, One Man's Odyssey as an Adoptee. I fidget as he reads about his first face-to-face meeting with his birth mother. I glance up and notice the grape arbour above us. The Open Air Literary Salon is in front of the historic Design Center. Being mid-August, the grapes are just beginning to grow, not close to full headiness I remember from another grape arbour long lifetimes ago. His words are the perfect blend of pain and joy, and they settle in my gut as I recall a similar moment meeting my biological father for the first time. Patrick's mother's first ever words to him "I'm glad you wore jeans" equal the anti-climactic "who wants a beer?" my father asked after I walked into his house and life for the first time ever. Yet, neither of us will ever forget those words, those moments. Connectivity through writing, again.

This panel has worked the miracle of great writing -- their stories have transcended their own experiences and become real to listeners and readers. I want more of each book, I want to know these people and I want to be brave enough to write my memoirs concerning my parents, my marriage, my journey.

Thomas asks the panelists what they thought they'd write about when they began and what they ended up writing.

"Thinking 'Oooh, I don't want to deal with that' is probably (a good indicator) of what you really need to write," answers Steve.

"What I thought and felt about what happened," explains Suzana, who realized she couldn't chronicle things, but had to deal with her feelings, a foreign concept in her family's world.

Patrick had never written before. He journaled his search, but it took "seven years of kicking and screaming" before he wrote his memoir as a tool for the adoptive community. I make a little note on the Open Air Literary Salon orange flier about asking Thomas when he is running another memoir writing class. I am a great facilitator and inspirer, but I know I need major kicking to get me screaming to write my own demons down.

The next question addresses writing memoir vs. fiction. Patrick quotes the unforgettable Spalding Gray, "I can't make things up." Suzana also claims not to write fiction. Steve quips up with "I'm so tired of writing about myself, now I want to write fiction" and calls it "poetic justice" to have written his story as fact.

The panel closes up and I do the meet and greet, exchanging business cards and anecdotes, before I meander back to the Ink table to see who is volunteering now. Little did they know how lucky they are to be sitting there when I descend. John is involved in the Brown Bag workshops and is the guy in charge of the e-mail list. A lovely lady in refreshing greens walks up then and is my next victim, er interviewee. Poor Nicole Vollrath. I try to drag her into the inner circle of writers & Writers, Ink folk, only to find she is already hooked.

After a break from bothering the nice folks, I check out a tent next to the Open Air Salon, Mom's Breastaurant and chat with founder Nonie Veccia and a blue-eyed baby named Kai. My brief time off from my daily responsibilities is winding down. I watch Judy begin the last event slated that afternoon, poet Roger Aplon accompanied by percussionist Marcos Fernandes. Under the shady arbour, a tired San Diego Police officer sits, relaxing with a paper cone of something delish and an icy cold lemonade as he listens to Roger Aplon's performance about "Wrestling Gators" to the sound of cymbals. Ayup, this is Hillcrest. Alas, it's  time to wander back to the real world.

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