Ah, yes, Professor Brooke Hopkins of the U. of Utah English Dept. He is one of my favorite teachers in my life, too, John. In my own teaching, I look to him as a model of enthusiasm and caring (I also thought B. W. was a great U. of U. prof, more for his generous eloquence and great breadth of intelligence and knowledge, though outside of the classroom he was a mean spirited, petty classed bastard. Not so Brooke.)

Another great teacher of mine was Mr. Frisius, my Shakespeare and Advanced Placement English teacher. He was fat; smelly; had metal caps on his front teeth; couldn't keep his hair from flopping all over in cow-licky convulsions; couldn't keep his shirt tucked in or his buttons buttoned straight or even his jacket on both his arms; called us all peasants ("peasant in the green dress, would you please close the door," that sort of thing); was married to a woman twenty years his senior who, when I took him in 1973, was paralyzed by a stroke; chain smoked (as evidenced by Winstons falling out of his pocket nearly every time he went into palpitations of excitement over a passage he loved) - but man oh man was he passionate about words, and he read poetry like some goddam angel overloaded on bliss.

Many of my pre-med, college bound, grade grubbing friends didn't like him at all (such sloppy, uninhibited passion and love made them uncomfortable, I suspect), but I swore then, and I am keeping that promise, that my first book of poems would be dedicated to him. Sorry mom.