Brainstorming about history, politics, literature, religion, and other topics from a 'gypsy' scholar on a wagon hitched to a star.
posted by Horace Jeffery Hodges @ 6:02 AM
9 comments
I am a retired professor. I last taught at Ewha Womans University, mostly composition, research writing, and cultural issues, but also the occasional graduate seminar on Gnosticism and Johannine theology and the occasional undergraduate course on European history. My doctorate is in history (U.C. Berkeley), with emphasis on religion and science. My thesis is on John's gospel and Gnosticism. I'm also an award-winning writer, and I recommend my novella, The Bottomless Bottle of Beer, to anyone interested. I'm originally from the Arkansas Ozarks, but my academic career -- funded through doctoral and postdoctoral fellowships (e.g., Fulbright, Naumann, Lady Davis) -- has taken me through Texas, California, Switzerland, Germany, Australia, and Israel and has landed me in Seoul, South Korea. I've also traveled to Mexico, visited much of Europe, including Moscow, and touched down briefly in a few East Asian countries. Hence: "Gypsy Scholar."
9 Comments:
beautiful
Thanks, James.
Coincidentally(?) Mark Goodacre blogged today - his epitaph is apparently going to be something like the Jedi Knight of bloggers ... or bibliobloggers, can't remember which.
Happy Birthday Mr Milton!
That's really lovely.
Steph, thanks for the heads-up -- on Mark and on Milton. I really ought to attempt to remember Milton's birthday . . . but my brain is full.
Thanks Kate Marie. I suppose the poem sounds nicer than the tongue-in-cheek 'potty mouth' stuff that I posted on your blog.
Well, yes, it's nicer, but I like your "potty mouth" persona, too!
"All of me, why not take all of me..."
Why not? Because the 'Potty Mouth' is included.
Without batteries.
To be assembled.
Using Japanese directions.
Thank you Jeff. I recall something I once wrote:
The Walker
Time well spent
On the road to town
The Walker wore
his felt hat and his aged shoes
on his old feet.
His breath smelled of
Pall Malls and his fingers
were yellowed.
The Walker bore on
On his walk to town.
He cocked his head and
looked down at me.
His watery eyes saw something
that made him smile
He reached down and took my hand
On our walk to town.
-Pat (OJF)
Pat, that sounds like a nice memory. I recall walking with grandpa to town but nothing quite so vivid as your walk.
My most vivid memory of a walk to town with grandpa was the time the creek flooded our entire backyard. Grandpa took me to town, where I saw the water threatening to flood the high bridge there.
Very exciting and adventurous, I thought, but I was only five . . . if I recall.
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