Back in the 1970s we had a complete set of beige c0lored World Book Encyclopedias in our living room. I remember thinking how cool it would be if my name might appear in there someday. It wasn't as if I had an inkling about what was required to have an entry. Now I realize I might be able to pull that off if I was a reviewer or consultant. One line -- not exactly a dream realized. This childhood recollection came to mind as I thought about celebrity and the appeal of being known.
I believe that life would be good if I was occasionally the recipient of applause and recognition, especially if each time it caught me by surprise. And I think that these moments provide assurance that I matter, even if just as the cause of a smile. While I don't aspire to the form of celebrity that requires running a gauntlet of photographers just to go out and buy cat food, it is important to have scraps of evidence that my existence matters. Perhaps that is why encourages and entices our merry band of colleagues -- the ambition to leave a mark that makes others' lives a small measure better. The was the message of It's A Wonderful Life and to be reminded of this other than during the winter holidays is reassuring. My favorite biology professor once quipped during a lecture that maybe being remembered beyond the days in which we are alive is as close as we can get to immortality.
Last evening as I made the transition from the computer to the bed, I sat down to read the interview of Billy Collins. It was startling how familiar it was until I reminded myself that I'd heard the actual recording of the exchanges. Yet there was something magical about having it all appear in black and white (photos too!). When I reached the section where teaching was being discussed, especially the statement "that would be interesting to hear, too" I had to shut the magazine and press it to my chest. I did this subconsciously. I report it here, not to be theatrical, because my mind was awash in amazement and delight and awe. These sensations were so powerful that I could not continue reading.
The brightness of this morning helps identify the cause for the emotional rush (part can be attributed to the generous inscription to me by the article's author). I felt I was being transported to the extra chair just beyond the camera's scope. The transcendence came about because I was witnessing a genuine connection between two important individuals. Not just because one was a laureled poet and the other a purveyor of physics to local schoolchildren. Instead, it was the authenticity of the exchange that had the give and take, the lead and follow, of a good jazz duo. I stopped reading in part because I was overwhelmed by witnessing people working toward the utopian groove that Stanley Crouch describes. Yes, I was feeling that level of astonishment. Beyond being stunned by the jamming repartee, my hands closed the volume because I was not ready to follow it until it was over. I want to savor the moment.
There were two celebrities involved -- three since I ought to include the photographer. What they were doing, what was being made, what was being captured for all time -- all of those mattered. More than a ripple, this interview and accompanying article are real. In addition, the article itself matters because it captured a magical moment, to say nothing about the content of the exchange. It feels like sunshine in a bottle. It waits for me to return. This is not some obscure literary effort in minor college publication. Instead, it is an object and an event that truly matters. Immortality or maybe as close to perfection as I should reasonably expect to witness.
I believe that life would be good if I was occasionally the recipient of applause and recognition, especially if each time it caught me by surprise. And I think that these moments provide assurance that I matter, even if just as the cause of a smile. While I don't aspire to the form of celebrity that requires running a gauntlet of photographers just to go out and buy cat food, it is important to have scraps of evidence that my existence matters. Perhaps that is why encourages and entices our merry band of colleagues -- the ambition to leave a mark that makes others' lives a small measure better. The was the message of It's A Wonderful Life and to be reminded of this other than during the winter holidays is reassuring. My favorite biology professor once quipped during a lecture that maybe being remembered beyond the days in which we are alive is as close as we can get to immortality.
Last evening as I made the transition from the computer to the bed, I sat down to read the interview of Billy Collins. It was startling how familiar it was until I reminded myself that I'd heard the actual recording of the exchanges. Yet there was something magical about having it all appear in black and white (photos too!). When I reached the section where teaching was being discussed, especially the statement "that would be interesting to hear, too" I had to shut the magazine and press it to my chest. I did this subconsciously. I report it here, not to be theatrical, because my mind was awash in amazement and delight and awe. These sensations were so powerful that I could not continue reading.
The brightness of this morning helps identify the cause for the emotional rush (part can be attributed to the generous inscription to me by the article's author). I felt I was being transported to the extra chair just beyond the camera's scope. The transcendence came about because I was witnessing a genuine connection between two important individuals. Not just because one was a laureled poet and the other a purveyor of physics to local schoolchildren. Instead, it was the authenticity of the exchange that had the give and take, the lead and follow, of a good jazz duo. I stopped reading in part because I was overwhelmed by witnessing people working toward the utopian groove that Stanley Crouch describes. Yes, I was feeling that level of astonishment. Beyond being stunned by the jamming repartee, my hands closed the volume because I was not ready to follow it until it was over. I want to savor the moment.
There were two celebrities involved -- three since I ought to include the photographer. What they were doing, what was being made, what was being captured for all time -- all of those mattered. More than a ripple, this interview and accompanying article are real. In addition, the article itself matters because it captured a magical moment, to say nothing about the content of the exchange. It feels like sunshine in a bottle. It waits for me to return. This is not some obscure literary effort in minor college publication. Instead, it is an object and an event that truly matters. Immortality or maybe as close to perfection as I should reasonably expect to witness.
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