So Billy Collins says there are these two poets. Poet A and Poet B. Poet A likes to think of himself (or herself) as a lightning rod. The poems strike and she (or he) writes them down. Poet B, however, knows that his (or her) poems have been crafted of carefully considered language and hard-won thought or feeling. Billy Collins says, think of Mozart and Salieri. And I see Tom Hulce and F. Murray Abraham bewigged, smiling, as a blurred golden Oscar™ rises between them.

So I'm seated not quite between a young man and a young woman who will later chair two sessions of this Tenth Annual ELL Conference at University of St. Francis. These two are good friends. They are, in fact, what you might call boyfriend and girlfriend. They are both wonderful former-students-of-mine.

I used to live and work in Joliet. So I briefly greet a young man from JCA who remembers me but whose name escapes me for a moment. And I briefly greet Fr. Warren, who tried to teach me French and made me want to be smarter than I was many years ago. And I briefly speak with Miss Fry, who made me want to be a better teacher every day for thirteen years in Joliet.

Though two of the four readers for this session did not appear, two of them do. Wonderful former-student-of-mine Angela reads a lucid paper entitled "Redeeming the Dark Lady: Shakespeare and Feminism in His Time". The other paper, "Enlightenment through Detachment: The Journey of Richard II," makes sense - even though I last read the play in 1972. Still, a third paper ("Harmony and Community, Portia and Antonio and Act V in The Merchant of Venice") is read by a randomly selected young woman who pronounced epi-toe-me cutely...and I recall that I never quite finished that play back in 1972.

So I think of visiting my sister and my brother, but they might not be home. One isn't. One is. I have a few words with my perfect nephew Matt, then drive to Plainfield where two large barking dogs pull my brother John away from his work to the door and me.

I am hungry. No, I am not hungry, so I drive back home with Charlie Parker and Leonard Cohen. I will read. No, I will sleep.