I read Wild a couple years after I lost my mom to cancer. I remember thinking how closely Cheryl’s struggle mirrored my own experiences and was amazed that she had managed to write such a raw and vulnerable memoir. Yesterday, I gave her a Snapple before her talk. Afterwards, we talked for a couple minutes and I thanked her for what she had shared. I told her that I didn’t own her book because I was poor, but that I’d love it if she could sign my library card. She was gracious enough to oblige.