Had an American Lit prof back in college who did his MA at Berkeley. He told a long, great story which I’ve mostly forgotten but the important part went like this: He saw Bill Russel (the basketball player) on campus one day. Apparently, Mr Russel had been giving a talk. Prof walks up to him and says, “Mr Russel, I was a huge fan. Can I have your autograph?”
Russel says, “No, I’m sorry, I don’t give autographs.”
And then proceeds to sit down and have an hour-long conversation with him instead.
[dumbass]
Who’s Harper Lee?
[/dumbass]
Tripler
Now if it were Sara Lee, I’d be swapping recipes.
clutches chest
Elizabeth, I’m coming to meet ya!
Author of To Kill a Mockingbird.
I see you made it to T-Town in one piece. Condolences.
Now, here’s your opener next time she’s sittin’ there:
“Hey! Remember that book about ghosts in Alabama that you were going to write? Yes? Remember how back in '78 you borrowed some old family records from Scarlett, over in Dadeville? Remember now? Well, Scarlett would like her family’s papers back if, you know, you can find the time…”
That ought to get your conversation off to a great start.
::worships vetbridge::
Well, what’s happening now, Sampiro?!
Well, it’s been several hours- if she’s still out there, someboy with a mirror oughtta check on her…
No, she left not too long (an hour or so) after I posted, by which time she’d been slobbered over by various profs and deans who heard the bongo drums announce her presence. She’s been lobbied for decades to give her papers to U of AL either before or after her death but she hasn’t made a commitment of course (usually those of her stature come with major strings attached anyway).
I would describe her as tall (though I’m not sure- she was sitting down), very straight and alert, smiling, short cropped white hair (frankly somewhat butch- I’ve no idea what her “tastes” are) and even though she’s made gazillions from her novel she was wearing a pantsuit that was K-Mart or Goodys quality (not a snide remark- I buy off the rack all the time- just odd, but then she’s southern aristocracy who grew up in the Depression and they tend to squeeze a nickel until Jefferson gets stigmata).
I was standing next to the ticket counter in the tiny Lebanon, NH airport waiting for my grandmother and cousin to get seat assignments to return home. This woman walks in and stands right behind my grandmother. She was wearing these loud spandex hotpants which I thought was weird. Then, she turns in my direction and I realize that it was Nina Hartley! I couldn’t get up the courage to say anything or tell her how much I admired her work. I did have to explain to my grandmother and young cousin who she was when they saw me staring. It turns out, she was giving a presentation on some type of erotica at Dartmouth.
Well gee, I think that’s cool.