My late good friend James Watson, a notable Faulkner scholar and a PhD (“doctor”) who taught lively morning classes in literature at the University of Tulsa for many years, shared with me the following in an email:
“Had I had the velcro memory for math and chemistry that I apparently did for poetry, I might have been what my sons call a ‘real’ doctor. One of them now is just that—an anesthesiologist who claims with a straight face to do what his father does, putting people to sleep every morning.”
The University of Tulsa has an excellent and extensive library and is home to the International James Joyce Foundation which attracts scholars worldwide to do research drawing on its considerable resources. Hugh Kenner, author of The Pound Era, spent time there researching a book and I had the good fortune to enjoy a leisurely lunch with him one fine day and we talked on many things, not including cabbages and kings.
I took several of Dr. Watson’s memorable classes along with classes taught by TU luminaries such as Francine Ringold, Manly Johnson, Joseph Millichap, and Daniel Marder. It was a happy time with laughters high and laughters low.1
Note
1. This is an allusion to a passage on page 259 of Finnegans Wake:
Loud, heap miseries upon us yet entwine our arts with laughters low!
Ha he hi ho hu.
Mummum.
HyC