Archive
07/21/08 - (2)
Meg Earlier this evening, in Oxford, At the Downtown Grill, on the courthouse square, My waiter noticed I was composing verse
And asked what I was writing about. I told him I'd just come from Bailey's Woods And was trying to capture the passion I'd felt there.
A half-hour later, he came back and said, "There's someone I know would like to meet you." Not long after, he introduced me to Meg,
The daughter of a deceased old friend of mine (her father, The beloved eldest son of William Faulkner's brother John — "Brother Will"'s favorite nephew: Jimmy Faulkner).
I held my hands out, to her, And she took them, in her own, As though we'd known each other for our lifetimes.
Indeed, we sensed an instantaneous kindredness, Though she could hardly have known That I'd been personally acquainted with her father
And, vicariously, with her great-uncle, Through my outsize appreciation of his rich literature. For minutes, we shared each other's backgrounds, Then she had to return to her duties. On parting, we hugged each other, with affection. I felt as though I were saying good-bye to a daughter.
07/21/08 - (2)
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