At the Christian Writers Guild Conference

I arrived here in Colorado Springs yesterday for the conference at the Broadmoor, brought by a smooth flight and greeted by serene weather.

One of the things I like about coming here is the profusion of accents from around the nation and the globe. Behind me at breakfast, a New Zealand baritone talked over business with a guy from the American suburbs. To my left, a grand Latina lady taught her little granddaughter some Spanish. A girl pouring coffee was from the English midlands, a bellman named Moses had Jamaican music in his voice, and the maid who just knocked on my door came straight from Vienna.

But the craziest moment was yesterday. I get on the shuttle from the airport to the hotel, and all around me are middle-aged women shouting at each other in the brutal tones of Manhattan friendship. They’re the real deal — gestures, laughter, the works. And what are they doing at the Broadmoor?

They’re attending a Tupperware convention.


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