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Whitman: the day after

It’s going to take me a long time — maybe forever — to really come to grips with what yesterday meant to me. When I hatched this crazy plan last year, I wasn’t even sure I could make it happen. Then Connie Bodner stepped in, and it suddenly became possible, if not probable.

Then it was yesterday. Months of planning, literally thousands of e-mail messages, hundreds of phone calls. Dozens of readers, dozens of dinner guests, dozens of staff members, one actor. Could we really expect it to come off well?

When I finally sit down and write the story of my life, 21 May 2006 will be one of the high points. It was better than I ever could have hoped. The diversity of voices. The passion of the readers. The flow of emotion throughout the afternoon. Hail. Rain. Wind. Sunshine. (In late May!)

Then came the end of the reading. Wade Norwood was the final reader. He finished the last line — I stop some where waiting for you — and started down the stairs from the lectern. As his foot hit the first step, a wave crashed through the church. The audience of readers and listeners erupted with cheers, applause, and more than a few moist eyes, including my own. This wave of sound and emotion and joy and completion just kept building and building. It was almost too much to believe. (My hands are shaking right now as I type this.)

We took no photos, made no recordings. The event passed into the air. The sound waves are even now heading out across the solar system as almost imperceptible disturbances of whatever it is that makes up the cosmos.

I’m still awestruck at the experience. I feel so lucky to have been there, and to have been surrounded by such wonderful people. I have a debt to that room that I can’t repay.

Published in Literature Rochester

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