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Show Anting Alone Page 25i pulled the phone over next to him on the couch. And, Sam seemed to recall, his mom had come into the living room, wringing her apron gently and saying, "Sammy honey? You know as well as I that it is extremely unlikely, but, just in case you don't get famous right away, don't you think that maybe you ought to at least apply to some nice little graduate school somewhere? - if for no other reason than to make yourself look not too cocky to your future biographers? - hmmm?" Sam ignored her sarcasm. Sarcasm in somebody's mom is extremely unattractive. He said, "I'll consider it, if you do all the paperwork." So his mom had gone to the wall map, covered her eyes, poked a finger at random, and Sam had been teaching comp at the present institution for three weeks before he finally had occasion in one of his lectures to say, " - here at KU -," and one of the tall gleaming farmboys had raised his hand and said, "Try KSU." So here Sam was, at KSU. Somehow, that had never seemed a satisfactory explanation of how he'd wound up here. Then he met the great poet and editor Dr. A., and it became manifest that it was the Hand of God brought Sam here. Sam wanted to find his old teacher today to share in that most of intimate of relationships: an author with his first editor. Sam wanted to sit quietly with Dr. A. and bask in each other's talents; also Sam wanted to prance at Dr. Abraham's feet like a puppy, and brag about all the new things he'd learned out there in the real world during his sojourn at the prairie army base, things he could have learned no place else. New skills for instance. Like, Sam could get into his khaki cot at |
