Trying to get to Laos and Myanmar: one battle after another

The morning of Monday 2/23/26, I was supposed to fly from the U.S. to Asia for international school visits in Vientiane, Laos and Yangon, Myanmar [formerly Burma]. 

I was supposed to arrive in Laos the evening of 2/24/26 and Myanmar the evening of 3/1/26.

I was supposed to have two connections en route to Laos: Dubai and Bangkok.

I was supposed to speak for six days between the two schools.

None of that happened.

Landmark Mekong Riverside Hotel, Vientiane, Laos

Here’s a quick list of how it unraveled:

Problem 1: SNOWSTORM

Problem 2: FLIGHT CANCELED 

Problem 3: NO BOARDING PASS

Problem 4: NOT ENOUGH PASSPORT PAGES

Problem 5: NO CASH

Problem 6: EMAILS NOT DELIVERING

Problem 7: SAME-DAY FLIGHT

Problem 8: PASSPORT NUMBERS DON’T MATCH

Problem 9: MYANMAR EMBASSY CLOSED

Problem 10: LANDING AFTER MIDNIGHT

Problem 11: WAR GROUNDED MIDDLE EAST FLIGHTS

Problem 12: COULD NOT GET VERIFICATION CODE

Explanations:

Problem 1: SNOWSTORM

A sizable storm was predicted for 2/22/26, the night before my trip commenced. Rather than risk not being able to get to the airport—missing my first flight would have a disastrous ripple effect—I got a hotel room near the airport. That proved unnecessary because my area did not end up receiving enough snow to disrupt road travel.

Problem 2: FLIGHT CANCELED 

I missed my first flight anyway.

First, my 10:30 am Emirates departure was delayed…then delayed several more times. Almost always a bad sign. Sure enough, around 1 pm the flight was canceled. 

Since I was supposed to start speaking at the first school on Thursday 2/26/26, I needed to arrive no later than Wednesday, so I pushed to be rebooked on a same-day flight. After at least two exasperating hours on the phone with the airline, I got my wish: a 10 pm departure. And now three connections [Dublin, Dubai, Bangkok].

So I just stayed at the airport, racking up over 14 hours there. 

Emirates had no lounge at Dulles but did have an agreement with the Air France lounge, so I talked my way into it, saying I’d be there only a short time. But I stayed till it closed at 8 pm.

Problem 3: NO BOARDING PASS

Luckily, I had not checked a bag.

I arrived in Bangkok around midday on Wednesday 2/25/26, I was facing an eight-hour layover. I intended to again try to talk my way into the Emirates lounge on the grounds that the flight rebooking meant I lost my cushion day. [When arranging international school visits, I always build a day between landing and going to work into the schedule so I have time to acclimate, rest, and maybe explore.]

However, that last leg, Bangkok to Vientiane, was on a regional carrier—and I did not yet have the boarding pass for it. That meant I could not yet go through security, so no lounge. And the ticket counter for the airline would not open till 6 pm. My flight was departing at 8:50 pm.

So I simply sat in the limbo area of the airport for the afternoon, bound to one of the only outlets I found in the vast area so I could get some work done.

Problem 4: NOT ENOUGH PASSPORT PAGES

This was the big one.

When I went to get my boarding pass, the airline rep said that the ticket number I provided was not in their system. I searched through the multiple emails I’d gotten when I was rebooked and found a different ticket number that did work. Why two? Who knows.

Then he dropped the bigger bomb. He said that to travel on, I needed two blank pages in my passport. I said I have them. He said they are the wrong kind—for endorsements [whatever that is], not visas.

I’m a seasoned traveler and hyper-organized on top of it. 

But this nearly steamrolled me.

I did not know that not all passport pages are interchangeable.

I asked if they could simply use one of the pages with only two stamps, and they said no. They double-checked with Laos immigration—still no. My only option, they said, was to get a new passport.

It was night.

My flight was boarding in an hour. 

It typically takes weeks to get a new passport.

I shook off the shock and WhatsApped my school contact to profusely apologize that I was going to miss at least day 1 and ask if the school had any sway with immigration; sometimes these international schools know tricks. Alas, not in this case. So I returned to that one outlet to make my game plan.

By then it was 9 pm. I booked an affordable hotel that was near the American Embassy in Bangkok so I would not have a long trek in the early morning.

My Viber Out didn’t work so I could not call the hotel to ask if they had a shuttle.

Problem 5: NO CASH

So I took public transportation to the hotel. For the first train, I could simply tap a credit card to pay. But then I had to change lines to a system that, unbeknownst to me, accepts only cash. 

I was only transferring through Thailand and had no local currency.

So I had to use an ATM in the subway station—felt sketchy. My first attempt seemed to work, yet no cash came out. I had no choice but to try again—and that time, money discharged. Later I got only one confirmation email from my bank, which was a small relief.

At the hotel, I prepared for my morning mission as if I’d be storming the beach at Normandy. 

I gathered my passport, paperwork, an umbrella, a portable charger, sunscreen, and a snack for what could be a long, hot outdoor wait. I asked for a late checkout and the best I could get was 12:30 pm…but I did not check out. Instead I checked my bag at the front desk. 

This way, if I got back earlier than 12:30 pm, I could simply pick up my bag and return to my room to refresh, but if the my embassy adventure stretched past 12:30 pm, I wouldn’t have to worry that they’d enter my room and move my stuff. 

The embassy would open at 8 am. I wanted to be first in line, so I got there at 5:30 am. 

That did make me first; others began showing up only minutes later. By sunrise, dozens. 

An hour later, hundreds.

The embassy had separate lines for visa applicants and for Americans in a bind. I seemed to be the only lunkhead in the latter category.

Problem 6: EMAILS NOT DELIVERING

Around 7:30 am, an embassy staffer asked me to email my situation to someone in the building I was standing outside of. That was the first step to getting inside. I did so, attaching a copy of my passport, visa application, flight itinerary, and school contract. 

Thirty minutes later, I was told the email had not arrived, so I resent. Soon after, I was asked to send a third time. This intensified my anxiety—I didn’t have time for glitches. So I tried sending via a different app—Gmail instead of Mail—and mercifully, that worked.

By 8:30 am, I was let in. 

They have a café in there. And a lifesaving staff who agreed to issue me an emergency passport within hours. Though I’d never brought even one extra passport photo on trips, for some reason this time I took three. I needed one of them for this.

Emergency passports are more restrictive than standard passports. I checked if it would be accepted by both Laos and Myanmar, and understood that it would. 

I paid $130 at 9 am and was told to come back to pick up the passport at 2 pm. 

Again, that was Thursday. It was the first time since Monday that I could relax.

Problem 7: SAME-DAY FLIGHT

I was already a day late for the school in Laos. To salvage the second and final day at that school, I had to book a flight that departed that day. Since it was already mid-afternoon, time was of the essence.

So as soon as I got that passport, I sent the school the new passport number so they could book me a flight while I walked back to the hotel, retrieved my bag, and returned to the airport [again by subway—ready with cash this time].

But I did not have to rush that much because I already knew the flight time—it was the same one I missed the night before. Departure 8:50 pm. Time for my favorite, pad see ew.

My [purple] emergency passport got me to Laos without incident. The staff at the Vientiane International School was gracious about my preventable travel snafu and nimbly condensed as much of the original two-day schedule into one as possible.

The head of school, who’s been on the international circuit for much of his career, told me he, too, once had to get an emergency passport, which made me go a little easier on myself.

Friday afternoon through Saturday night were serene. Friday afternoon I discovered that only a one-minute walk from my hotel was a charmingly unauthorized Batman-themed guesthouse. What are the chances? 

Saturday I visited Buddha Park, partially on a secret mission to be revealed later, and the temple Pha That Luang. 

The serenity was short-lived.

Problem 8: PASSPORT NUMBERS DON’T MATCH

This was the second big one.

Early Sunday, I went to the airport for my flight to Yangon. 

It had not occurred to me that the Myanmar visa I’d applied for and printed from home had the old passport number. 

But it occurred to the airline. 

They would not let me board because they thought Myanmar immigration would not let me in. I said that I still had the old passport with me and that I was going to work with kids. Can’t let down the kids! They contacted immigration to explain my situation, and after maybe 20 minutes, immigration texted back a single word: “denied.”

The airline rep said the only thing I could do with an emergency passport is go home.

I didn’t collapse, but my spirit did. 

It took a few minutes to snap myself out of a mild catatonic state and restore my resolve. I’d come that far, figuratively and literally—I wasn’t going home without [another] fight. I was told that the Myanmar Embassy in Laos might be able to help.

Going to the American Embassy in Thailand was one thing. I’m American, and Bangkok has an infrastructure that caters more to foreigners. But going to the Myanmar Embassy in Laos was several steps deeper into the unknown. I’m neither Lao nor Burmese, and the cultural differences between Laos and the West were more pronounced. 

For the second time in five days, I messaged a school contact with bad news. For the second time in five days, my contact was supportive. I also messaged my Laos contact to ask for a suggestion of a decent hotel near the Myanmar Embassy. She knew just the place, and though several online reviewers said their rooms were swarming with mosquitoes, I booked a room. I had bigger challenges. My contact also generously ordered me a taxi.

I arrived at the hotel several hours before check-in, so I set up shop near the one working outlet I found in the large ground floor [echoes of the Bangkok airport]. Frantically, I began emailing both the Myanmar Embassy and, as a head’s up/backup, the American Embassy [which, I’d read, might be able to step in if I didn’t get anywhere with Myanmar]. I also asked the Myanmar school to whip up and send me a letter of invitation to show the embassy. 

And again I planned to get up at 5 am on Monday to be first in line so if successful, I could try to fly to Yangon later that day.

Not realizing that you don’t have to go that early for the Myanmar Embassy in Laos.

Problem 9: MYANMAR EMBASSY CLOSED

I was the first. I was the only. 

And after standing outside the closed gate in the dark for almost an hour, hoping the stray dogs wouldn’t pay me any mind, I noticed that one of the dates on the list of 2026 holidays posted in front of the embassy was that day. 

That meant I just lost day 1 at the Myanmar school.

Though I felt defeated, this fluke might mean I could get back the day I lost at the Laos school. It was only 7 am! I booked a second night at the Laos hotel, then contacted my host to see if they could be spontaneous and bring me in. While I waited for a reply, I ironed a shirt in case they said yes. Unfortunately, though they’d already planned for a second day with me, they weren’t ready to implement it that day.

So I worked in my hotel room. [By the way, not one mosquito in there.] 

That afternoon, although the embassy was closed, an embassy contact replied to my email: “Currently we can issue visa only and can’t accept emergency passport. First, you will need apply for passport at American embassy in Vientiane.”

Thing is, I had just done that in Bangkok. The emergency passport had been my only option because a full passport would take two to three weeks to process.

The American Embassy also wrote back: “If you come into any complications while in Laos, feel free to contact us”…but then said that they could not influence Myanmar immigration rules. In other words, if I come into any complications besides this one.

Even so, I planned to return to the Myanmar Embassy the next morning, Tuesday [but two hours later].

My reputation got there ahead of me. With smiles, a groundskeeper and later a security guard both said “Oh, you are the American who emailed.” 

Just before 8:30 am, a sympathetic man arrived and invited me in. No security. We sat in his cozy office and he almost immediately assured me that they could not only provide a new visa, but could put it into the passport itself, which he said was better. [The visa I’d gotten online was legit, but on a separate sheet of paper.] 

For good measure, I also asked if the ambassador could write me a brief letter of approval, and he did.

I also needed two passport photos—the exact number I had left.

I waited about an hour while they prepared it. Someone brought me tea. For only the second time in eight days, I felt at ease. 

When I was leaving the embassy, a staffer said I’m lucky because the previous ambassador would not have approved this. I told her I knew I was lucky even before I learned that.

I asked if I could thank the ambassador and they gave me his WhatsApp. He wrote back that he was happy to help and was there if I needed more help. It was so desperately compassionate.

Like I did with the Laos school, I asked the Myanmar school if they could book my flight for that day. They did. It was more than double the price of the Bangkok-Vientiane flight. 

Like the Laos school, the Yangon school rearranged the original schedule now that we had three days instead of four.

At the airport, the visa was airtight, but the airline reps were nervous about my emergency passport. They made me sign a waiver stating that if Myanmar did not let me in, I would not expect them to pay for my return flight. I signed, with confidence. The ambassador had my back.

Problem 10: LANDING AFTER MIDNIGHT

Constrained by short notice, we had only two flight options, both with a connection in Bangkok: one that would get in to Yangon at 10:30 pm, the other at 12:15 am. Naturally I preferred the first, and not just because the next morning was a 7:30 pickup to do six energetic sessions with kids.

I was told that this would involve two airlines that do not have an agreement, so my bag could not be checked through to Yangon. I would have to retrieve it and go back through security in Thailand—and the layover for the 10:30 itinerary was not long enough for that. 

At the airport I found out that I could have checked the bag through. Just lost more than an hour and a half.

Par for the course on this trip, bad soon turned to worse. We ended up landing even later, at 12:45 am. I didn’t get to bed till about 2 am. At least I’d slept almost eight hours each of the previous two nights.

Wednesday was my first of three days at the International School of Yangon.

After school, I visited the striking Shwedagon Pagoda, the most sacred in the country.

The day was a blissful reprieve from the ongoing headaches of this trip. I thought I was in the clear.

I should have known better.

Problem 11: WAR GROUNDED MIDDLE EAST FLIGHTS

This was the third big one.

Thursday morning kicked me in the groin again, hard. The previous weekend, the United States and Israel had attacked Iran, and Iran’s widespread retaliation had grounded commercial flights going in or out of the Middle East.

My return flight on Friday was on Emirates. All Emirates flights go through Dubai.

Sure enough, my flight was canceled…shortly before I had to do seven back-to-back talks for kids and staff. I know from past experience—one as recently as the week before—that rebooking international itineraries can take hours. Especially when you are in a country whose government blocks some of the internet. For example, WhatsApp didn’t work for me in Myanmar.

[Speaking of war and government, Myanmar is suffering from the aftermath of a 2021 military coup.]

So I couldn’t start trying to find another way home till late afternoon…and then only for a short time because the school staff was taking me to dinner. The head of school kindly let me take his phone to my hotel to call and try to make headway before our dinner. 

I did not make headway.

So the night before I was supposed to fly home, I went to bed without knowing how—or when—I could fly home.

On Friday, I had only two talks, then spent the next three stressful hours in a conference room at the school juggling between chatting with airline reps online and talking with an airline customer service supervisor on the head’s phone. [Interspersed with this: students asking for autographs, hopefully oblivious to my tense state.]

Emirates had rebooked me for more than a week later, and I couldn’t wait that long. I had to get back for other speaking gigs the following week.

Sometimes I reached an agent who did not seem competent, so I would try again. Finally I got someone who seemed to be on it. After an hour of work by chat, she asked for a number to call. In the two minutes it took me to ask the head of school what number to give the rep, the chat disconnected. Mamma mia.

When the chances that Emirates would rebook me on another carrier that day died, the assistant to the head contacted the school’s travel agent. Given that the unrest in the Middle East impacted air travel worldwide, it was a challenge to find same-day flights that were affordable...but I had to go with something. 

At 2 pm, the assistant found a flight to Seoul, but it departed just before 6 pm so I had to confirm—and find a reasonable itinerary from Seoul to home—by 3 pm. 

Problem 12: COULD NOT GET VERIFICATION CODE

Fate had one last laugh at my expense.

To pay for that last leg, the site prompted me to verify my identity by texting a code to my phone. But due to the spotty internet, that code didn’t arrive after many attempts. After everything that happened the past two weeks, this was when I truly came close to losing it. 

My contact saved the day by helping me with a VPN. As soon as the flight was booked, I packed up and dashed to the ride to the airport that the school provided.

Because I could not fly west to get home, this trip took me literally around the world: DC-Dublin-Dubai-Bangkok-Vientiane-Bangkok-Yangon-Bangkok-Seoul-Los Angeles-DC. 

I’d passed through the Bangkok airport so much that I began to recognize certain employees. 

Of course on a five-hour leg home [Bangkok-Seoul], I had a middle seat.

I lost two days of work and on top of that spent just shy of $2,000 [including three nights in hotels, three extra flights, a replacement visa in Myanmar, and five days of international data plan on my phone] to make it through.

 

But let’s look at the positives. 

Both schools were lovely.

And I did not get typhoid or malaria.

Quirks of the trip:

Laos accepts U.S. currency—but the bills must be new or close to it. If there’s even one fold or sign of wear, their banks won’t accept it, so neither will the restaurants or taxis.

At the sweet café in my Myanmar hotel, I ordered two scrambled eggs. After I ate them, they brought more. They thought I meant two plates of two eggs each. That night, I ordered a chicken sandwich and specified only chicken and bun—no sauce. They brought me only a bun. I tried to clarify, then they brought me a bun with chicken—and sauce. Third time, they nailed it.

On one of the umpteen flights I took, the pilot made an announcement asking passengers not to photograph the crew.

I added Ireland and Korea to the list of countries I’ve passed through without leaving the airport.

The airports [except for my origin, Dulles in DC]:

Dublin

Dubai

Bangkok

Vientiane, Laos

Yangon, Myanmar

Seoul

Los Angeles

DC [Reagan]

The boarding passes [8 out of 10]:

Lessons about international travel from my cautionary tale:

• two months before departure, make sure your passport has enough blank visa pages for your destinations
• bring extra passport photos [I needed them at both the American Embassy in Thailand and the Myanmar Embassy in Laos]
• travel light in case you have to move around quickly
• when things go wrong, stay cool; it will serve you well until things go right again

Levity:

in my first Laos hotel

helpful Burmese phrases

[I regret not having the chance to use the last one]

the sign on a broken diaper-changing table in a 
Bangkok airport bathroom summed it up...

Explaining pen names to an elementary student

If T liked writing, I wouldn’t be sharing this story.

Excerpt of a letter she wrote to Jake Maddox:

You’re one of my favorite authors. I am in fourth grade and I am nine years old. I love reading your books. I wanted to ask you for more hockey books please. As a girl I love hockey and there are just not enough books about hockey. Also could you make them longer. I always finish them in 2-3 days. In addition most of the hockey books I read the main character is a boy. I think that girls that play hockey will enjoy it as well. Thank you for reading this letter.

You can’t tell from that letter, but T is a reluctant reader and writer. The letter is the first time this school year she has been excited about writing.

How do I know all this?

When Amanda, an educator friend of mine who works at T’s school, tried to figure out how to get the letter to Jake Maddox, she discovered that Jake Maddox is not a real person.

“Jake Maddox” is a pseudonym that a publisher used for multiple authors who wrote certain series books. 

Amanda then discovered that one of the Jake Maddoxes was me.

So she asked my advice on how to proceed. She didn’t want to burst T’s bubble.

I said it’s perfectly appropriate—in fact advantageous—to explain pen names to young readers and that I’d be happy to do it.

T’s parents gave us permission to document this, so below is Amanda giving T the letter I wrote her. [I’m especially happy with the donut/booger section.]

After T reads the letter out loud, she and Amanda have a short conversation which explains my opening sentence. In short, this feels like a breakthrough.

Text of my letter:

I have a secret to share with you.

I got a letter you wrote to the author Jake Maddox, telling him you like his books.

But I am not Jake Maddox.

Actually, no one is.

Most books you read are written by the person whose name is on the cover. But sometimes the author name is a pseudonym—that means it’s made up.

Why?

Sometimes an author uses a pseudonym when he writes a book on a subject that he hasn’t written about before because he doesn’t want to confuse his readers. 

For example, let’s pretend I wrote a lot of books about donuts, then wrote a book about boogers. Fans of my donut books might worry all my future books would be about boogers. So I might use a fake name for the booger book.

And sometimes the person who decides to use a pseudonym is an editor at the publishing company—as long as the author agrees. In libraries and at bookstores, books are typically arranged alphabetically by the last name of the author: all the A names first, then the B names, and so on. You probably knew that already!

In the case of Jake Maddox, the publisher wanted a lot of their adventure and sports books to be next to each other on library shelves. That way, kids who like one could easily find others. But these books were actually written by different authors. If shelved alphabetically, they’d be all over the place!

To make sure all of these books were side-by-side on shelves, the publisher gave all of them the same author: Jake Maddox.  

So when I said I’m not Jake Maddox, that wasn’t 100% true.

I was *a* Jake Maddox, which is why I got your letter…but there were many others. All of us appreciate when a reader like you likes our books!

And even if I was none of the Jake Maddoxes, I would still be happy to hear how much you like his books, and how much you like reading in general.

I no longer write books for the publisher that made up Jake Maddox, so I can’t suggest that Jake write hockey books, or hockey books with girl protagonists, or longer books—though I agree with all of those things!

What I can do is encourage you to ask your librarian, your teacher, and your parents to help you find books with all of those things…because plenty are out there! 

And I can start you off with a recommendation that is not long but is about hockey and does star a girl/woman:

Breaking the Ice: The True Story of the First Woman to Play in the National Hockey League

It’s about Manon Rhéaume, the first and only woman to play a game in the National Hockey League! 

And…I know Manon! So if you read the book, and you’d like, I can ask her if she’d send you an autograph. I can’t promise, but it’s always worth asking!

In any case, that was so nice of you to write a letter to Jake Maddox. Now you know a secret. And a bit more about authors and publishing. 

I will end this letter so you have time to go back to reading all those great books.

The mystery of an actor in both "Superman" [1978] and "Batman" [1989]

Superman.

Batman.

Mystery Man.

In Superman: The Movie [1978], a thief uses suction cups to climb a high-rise in search of another score, but is cheekily intercepted by Superman.

In Batman [1989], Dr. Thomas Wayne leads his wife Martha and young son Bruce on a shortcut through a city alley where a tragedy ensues.

That criminal and that victim have something in common. 

Both small but memorable roles were played by David Baxt—one of only two actors to appear in both of those pioneering DC Comics superhero films. [The other was George Lane Cooper, who died in 2002.]

I discovered this only recently, which is why it’s taken this Superman/Batman nostalgist this long to try to find and interview David.

The same day I began my search, I learned that I am the first known writer to try to find David, but not the first person…

Alas, this story—at the moment—does not have a happy ending.

On IMDb, David’s first credit was in 1976, and his last in 2000. Long ago enough to all but confirm that he no longer has an agent. 

Another culturally significant film featuring David is The Shining [1980], in which he played the forest ranger who offers a lifeline of sorts to Shelley Duvall’s character over a CB radio as a winter storm rages. 

He also did stage work.

He is described as Canadian-British, which had me looking for him in Ottawa and London, but quick searches in directories either yielded nothing or would cost something. 

Over the years, when on the trail of other “lost” performers of the pre-internet era, I have stumbled upon a snippet of info in a throwaway comment on Reddit or some other forum. These rare clues, often casually posted by former classmates, can be the tipping point in finding someone.

I found no such nuggets on David.

So I turned to one of the most invaluable sources in such instances: obituaries. Names are gold. Unusual names like “Baxt” are gold-coated diamonds. [“Baxter” would have been a nightmare.]

I found obituaries for multiple family members, but none yielded easily searchable names—or they had names of others who were also dead.

Finally I came across David’s half-brother Joshua, who lives in California. I messaged him. He responded quickly—and chillingly:

“Unfortunately David self-disappeared around 20 years ago. We have not heard from him since. If he’s alive, he’s off the grid somewhere. I wish I had more for you.”

Oh, but he did. Because he kindly added “Feel free to call if you want more details.”

I did, immediately. I also Zoomed with David’s sister Susan. With their permission, I’ll share what I learned.

David was born in New Jersey on July 21, 1947. His sister Susan is four years older, Josh 14 years younger. David was not close with either sibling. He and Josh share a biological father but didn’t grow up together. Though they got along fine, they “weren’t brothers in any real sense.”

When David was three-and-a-half, the family moved to Montreal. He may have had an undiagnosed learning disability. Reading could be a struggle, but he was smart.

He was offered a scholarship to study opera at McGill…odd for someone who had no interest in opera. Susan didn’t know how it came about. David turned it down in favor of the School of Dramatic Arts in Montreal. He would busk to help pay for his education, along with a friend. [See addendum below.]

After finishing the program, David relocated to London which had a richer theater tradition; he also did movies and TV to help pay bills. He had a good agent. He had a circle of friends.

Josh and their family visited him when Superman was filming in New York. Though David’s part was small—apparently he had a line, but it did not make the final cut—they’d put him up in a big suite at the Waldorf Astoria. Josh recalled that they were shooting his scene at 2 a.m. [Time-and-a-half was involved.] Their dad was proud of David’s work.

Those 85 seconds of screen time earned David enough to live on for a year.

That unused line, as far as Josh remembered: “I wasn’t doin’ nothing.”

[Alas, Josh doesn’t think they took photos on set.]

“David was smart, kind and funny, though not in a joking way,” Josh said. “He tended towards wry observations. I stayed with him in London a couple of times, and he always took good care of me.”

David had asthma, which worsened over time and impacted his acting career. Around 1997, David came to California and stayed with his dad and stepmom, but their cat triggered an allergic reaction that sent David to the hospital. He recovered…but that was the last time Josh saw him.

Josh and David had been exchanging letters when their father died in 2002, but that eventually stopped. 

David and his father, 1992

There was no falling out. There was no explanation. There was no trace.

David’s mother passed away several years later. Susan tried to reach David, to no avail. Because they had inheritance matters to address, they hired a private investigator. The PI found that David had sold his London apartment sometime around 2006 and left no forwarding address. But the PI didn’t find David.

At the time, however, it was determined that David was still receiving residual checks…somewhere.

As of the family’s last contact with David, he dated women but had not married nor had kids. He has never met Josh’s kids, who are now adults.

David liked the sun and, due to his asthma [and bronchitis], benefitted from certain climates, so Josh imagines he may have settled in a small village along the Mediterranean. 

Josh presumes that David would hate the digital society we live in now. Even in the analog era, David was a Luddite who got an answering machine because he didn’t want to miss calls about auditions, but was resentful of “the stupid thing.”

As I mentioned, I’m the first writer to reach Josh or Susan about David, but every few years, Josh hears from a friend of David’s. A quarter century on, his inner circle is still holding out hope.

Susan doesn’t feel that Josh committed suicide. Though not counting on it, Josh doesn’t rule out David showing up again one of these days.

Which is one of the two reasons I’m posting this. Someone may see it and come forward with info—maybe a tipping point nugget that will solve the mystery.

This has happened with my work before [see here, here].

The other reason I’m posting this sad story is, of course, that it’s also a good story about a good man. 

1/11/26 addendum: Mere weeks after posting this, I heard from the friend with whom David busked in the early 1970s. What are the chances?

Her name is Rosa, and she and David were a couple for a while. I am astounded—and grateful—that she happened to stumble upon this post so soon after it went up and took the time to reach out.

She remembers that David was raised by his mother and older sister; that suggests that his father was out of the picture as he grew up, but as noted above, the two reconnected when David was an adult.

Members of David’s family were victims of the Holocaust. Some of them showed Rosa the numbers tattooed on their arms.

Rosa saw David shortly before he sold his London apartment and clearly remembers that he said he was going to disappear without a trace. I asked why he would announce that, and Rosa said it might relate to his complicated childhood.

When I asked Rosa if she thinks David is still alive, she said yes. He took care of his health. He planned to live in a dry place like Arizona.

She sent a photo of the young buskers and an article about them from a 1971 Montreal newspaper:

If you know anything about David Baxt, please reach out. 

"Legendary" school visits - IASL newsletter

In 2024, I recorded a talk on censorship for an International Association of School Librarianship conference. 

The December 2025 newsletter for IASL, Region 4 [Latin America & Caribbean], humbled me with this profile:

"...his school visits have become legendary for their energy, humor, and impact. Marc is the rare author whose real-life adventures often rival the stories he writes. During his visit to Tanzania, for instance, a UFO reportedly crashed on campus the night before he arrived!"

All non-Christian authors are evil

In September 2023, on day 9 of 10 of a trip to speak at 10 schools in San Antonio, TX, a parent complained that in my assemblies for grades 3 and up, I said someone in my story was gay. This parent did not hear my talk, read my book, see my film, or meet me.

The school district's response to me: leave out the word going forward or we're canceling the 10th and last school visit.

We canceled.

This month, I heard from a school librarian who had been working in San Antonio when that happened, though I didn't visit her school. She now lives in a blue state. Her message meant a lot:

I remember hearing other librarians speak highly about your presentation and they spoke highly about you. We all hated seeing the fallout from the last cancelled day. I can say this, very unofficially, no one on our end wanted your visit cancelled. I am not in the position to bring an author on my campus [I have no budget and admin isn't interested]. So, I am just dropping in to say THANKS for fighting the good fight.

Add this person to the list of San Antonio school librarians who reached out to me while people in their district—and beyond—were publicly calling me a groomer, pervert, and villain, and that makes a grand total of...two.

But I didn't expect them to do so, nor did I need them to. It's not about me. I'm confident that most if not all of the district's librarians agree that all people deserve respect and equity. I understand why they stayed silent. These are fearful times to show empathy. Jobs and reputations, if not safety, are on the line. 

However...meaningful change rarely occurs from within our comfort zone.

We are rapidly approach a breaking point, meaning if more people within the system do not start speaking up, adults in such communities will continue to manipulate kids into elevating white, straight, often Christian people over everyone else.

This comment by a Tennessee librarian who wanted to book me but ultimately couldn't will bring the wounded state of American public school education into even more dire focus:

The school board and others [in the community] do not see you in layers. They see all authors [except Christian authors] as evil. No subtlety.

And such people say we're indoctrinating...