O Henry

You may not believe it, but I actually try to restrain my nerdity when I go about my every day tasks. Surrounded by people who are much, much smarter than I am and know much more about the world, it's silly trying to sound like a know-it-all, and not very cool either. I am a mini-nerd in a pool of nerds, and mostly I downplay the fact that I like learning.

Sometimes though, it just slips out.

Like last night, signing my overpriced CD, Taylor Mali asked if it was the anniversary of the Columbine attacks. The few of us milling around (Prof. Watterson, us three Poeting groupies who waited for him to sign our stuff, and the education/English girls that brought him here- I think as Poeting we like to believe we know Mali better, we are better stalkers of him online, appreciate his works more, but ultimately, they brought him here and we didn't) muttered our agreements, then I noted that the day before was the anniversary of Paul Revere's ride.

The room sort of went silent after that.

"Well, you know, 'on the eighteenth of April, in seventy five, hardly a man is now alive, who remembers that famous day and year.' " I sort of expected Watterson to jump in with some Longfellow analysis, or take over the lines. But he didn't. Silence rang. Hoping to make it all sound more normal, I added, "It was the eighteenth yesterday, right?"

I could have sworn I heard crickets chirp when finally, Tony said, "Yeah, I guess."

And all this time, Mali was squinting at me, a smirk not quite there on his lips.

"Is that from Longfellow's 'Paul Revere's Ride?' You memorized Longfellow's poem?"

"Yeah? What?" I scoffed, trying to shrug it off. But it wasn't working. "Unlike some people, I paid attention in history class, ok?"

"I was fantasizing."

Yes, he was. And wrote a very funny, very Bowdoin, and very explicit poem about it, too.