April 10, 2019

First reading last night of FW in the Laurel Forum. It was a success. Everyone says they hear the poetry in the book, a remark which I interpret as “pure poetry is too rich for us; spread out like this, we can endure it. We can love it.”

Had my meeting with the Dean and the Provost. It was. . . unexpected. I had come prepared to fight the good fight for truth, honesty, and academic freedom, but their actual problem with me so was petty. . .  so unexpectedly petty. . . even to fight such a thing with the armaments I’d massed was. . . petty. So I ended up saying “Oh, yes ma’am I will be more careful in the future,” walking out at once relieved and minimally disgusted. The fight was over that? The Provost said, “You’ve had a sensational career; It would be a shame to have something like this linger at this point.” I wanted to say “the shame would be on you,” but, as I’ve observed, there was really no point.  Even the Provost is afraid of Miss Jill. There is no redress. I turn my back on Phillipps Hall and say “Good riddance.” It’s not even sad.

Excellent afternoon in the garden, planting zinnias and half-priced refugees from Reems Creek.