Wow, Doug: end of an era. Years dense with memory, indeed. I remember baseball games between poets & fiction writers. Coffee and cigarettes. Pool tables and cigars. A teepee. Road trips to Montreal with Beck playing on the radio. Salsa dancing. Mary Ruefle's lectures. Richard Jackson waxing poetic on the Greeks. Sydney Lea's letters, which I've kept. Ralph Angel's voice on tape (he narrated his correspondence). Jack Myers telling me during my first residency workshop: "these poems are publishable," followed by Tony Hoagland (who was visiting campus that day) clarifying, "No; they're not" — and I cannot believe that these last three men are no longer with us. I can picture the dress I wore at my reading (I may even still have it, these 20 years later, which is how long it actually took for my work to be published) and remember the meal shared after graduation, one of the best I've ever had. I loved Vermont and loved in Vermont and think of those days often, and always fondly.
Wow, Doug: end of an era. Years dense with memory, indeed. I remember baseball games between poets & fiction writers. Coffee and cigarettes. Pool tables and cigars. A teepee. Road trips to Montreal with Beck playing on the radio. Salsa dancing. Mary Ruefle's lectures. Richard Jackson waxing poetic on the Greeks. Sydney Lea's letters, which I've kept. Ralph Angel's voice on tape (he narrated his correspondence). Jack Myers telling me during my first residency workshop: "these poems are publishable," followed by Tony Hoagland (who was visiting campus that day) clarifying, "No; they're not" — and I cannot believe that these last three men are no longer with us. I can picture the dress I wore at my reading (I may even still have it, these 20 years later, which is how long it actually took for my work to be published) and remember the meal shared after graduation, one of the best I've ever had. I loved Vermont and loved in Vermont and think of those days often, and always fondly.
Oh no, “the last in the series.” Maybe others will follow your lead and reminisce about VCFA life in Montpelier.