Today was convocation, an annual ritual in which college professors welcome incoming freshmen by dressing up in preacher robes, wearing funny hats, and then getting really sweaty since it’s the end of August and no one in their right mind ought to wear such things when the humidity is high.
On the plus side, this year a fellow English professor, Sean Heuston, gave the welcome-to-college speech to the beleagured knobs (that’s “freshmen” to y’all in non-cadetland). He did quite well, I thought. I hope the young folk were paying attention.
But the real nice thing that happened today? Walking back home in my insanely hot and heavy preacher-man robes, I first ran into Cadet McKenna, who seems closer to an English conversion — hallelujah! — and then into Cadet Burnley, who has already seen the light of becoming an English Major and is doing yeoman’s work bringing the truth to his fellows. Both are fine young men who should have much success in life, and I was very glad to see them.
That said, special notice this day goes to Mr. Burnley, who is fresh from a summer spent abroad in Europe. He had under his arm one of those hardboard-and-plastic poster frames, with a print already mounted inside. This, he explained, was a gift for me, thanking me for the recommendation I wrote for his study abroad trip (he got a nice scholarship, good lad). No thanks are really necessary for such a thing, of course, since I don’t lie in recommendations. I just tell the truth (which, in this case, happened to be good since he’s an excellent young man).
Anyway, even though I don’t feel like I earned the gift, I gladly accepted it. How could I not? It’s a limited edition, numbered print (103/1000) of Mark Knopfler from his world tour this summer — the one I so desperately wanted to see. Mr. Burnley picked up the print in Europe when he saw him in concert (lucky lad!) and then carried the thing halfway around the globe. Can you believe that?
And that’s not even the best part.
It’s autographed.
Unbelievable.