As
if the leaves
from London weren't enough. As if getting hotel clerks all over the world
to paint
pictures of flowers for me to receive on my arrival wasn't enough. As if
making lunches for my pregnant self and sending them by courier across D.C. to
my office in Alexandria because he was worried about my vitamin intake wasn't enough. As if making me asparagus ice cream for the same reason wasn't enough. As if smelling
like the most marvelous combination of old books and the
most spectacular cologne in the world wasn’t enough...well, my lord, the
list is positively endless.
Just weeks ago in my Raving Maniac I Am Writing A Book About Authentic Living
Now Can't You Just Get The Hell Away From Me and Stop Breathing So Loudly
Stage, I determined that I could only write with one kind of pen--a pen from the Graves
601 hotel in Minneapolis where Mr Brilliant and Emma stayed on her way to Japanese language camp last summer.
Nothing else would do. "I LOVE this pen," I gushed repeatedly. "I can only write with this pen," I said,
histrionically waving said pen in the air above my head and laughing. "What will I do when this pen runs out?" I cried
in anguish. I walked around clutching that pen for weeks, insisting on using it and
nothing but it.
One day, a FedEx package arrived from the Graves 601 Hotel. Inside, wrapped in
beautiful silver Graves 601 tissue paper, were forty Graves 601 Hotel pens.
The man just flat out loves me.
And
now. The Christmas gift to end all gifts: five beautiful, off-white linen
envelopes. “Open them in order,” he said quietly, smiling.
The
first envelope held a card with beautiful typography on the cover: “Three
Billys and a Johnny or William
Faulkner at the Grocery Store.”
I
pondered that for a while, confused. Then I opened the card. Inside it read: “I
talked to some people about how wonderful and brilliant you are—I talked to
them about some of your heroes since they’re friends or related to them (now
mostly and basically dead). After hearing a bit of your story, they have agreed
to sit at the phone and talk to you a spell about some of their stories. This
is the next best thing to being there, I think; I hope they’ll tell you
something that you’ll carry with you into the future. Your Christmas gift for
2007 will be at least four telephone chats with the following folks…”
“What
on earth?” I said. “What do you mean?”
“Open
the second envelope,” he said.
Envelope
number two held a card imprinted with a beautiful photo of William Faulkner and
the inscription, “Billy 1” under the photograph.
“Billy,”
the inside read. Underneath that header was this paragraph: “Talking chat with
Jerry Showalter, the nephew of Eudora Welty and student of William
Faulkner. Jerry says that 'when I was the bagging boy at the local grocery,
Mr
Faulkner would always come to my line to check out.'"
I
went to graduate school at the University of Virginia, studying in
the very department in which William Faulkner taught. Mr Brilliant knows I
think Faulkner is a genius. I’ll talk to someone who actually studied with him!
The
next envelope contained a card imprinted with a beautiful little photograph of
the front of The Recognitions, a
great American novel by William Gaddis and the focus of my dissertation at the University of Virginia.
“Billy 2,” the inscription
read. Knowing that the reclusive, dead Gaddis was A) reclusive and B) dead, I
wondered what this meant.
On
the inside, the header read:
"Billy: The
Man who
isn’t William Gaddis but the Man Whom William
Gaddis Wasn’t"
My
heart jumped. Not only do I think that William Gaddis is one
of the greatest American writers of all time, but I think William Gass (often
mistaken for Gaddis) is an enormous genius himself and one of the great minds
of our time. Not only has he written about Gaddis, but
also about Rilke,
another of my heroes. Whew. About this time, I started sweating at the very
thought of talking to him on the phone.
“He’s very nice,” John said. “I called his house and just asked to talk with Mr
Gass, and then without hesitation, I heard his wife say, “Bill, you have a
phone call. He was very jovial.” Gass is 85 years old now.
The
next envelope stopped my heart completely for a few moments. On the card was a
photograph of my beautiful Billy
Collins. “Billy 3,” the inscription beneath is read.
I
dropped the card. “NO! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?” Something like fear swept through
me. Oh my lord, after all these years of adoration, the very thought of talking
to him on the phone scared the noodles out of me. “I CANNOT POSSIBLY DO THIS!”
I yelled. Talking to Billy
Collins on the phone would be like going out during an eclipse and looking
right into the sun without protective eye gear. I felt myself hyperventilating.
“I can’t breathe,” I said, opening the card.
“Billy,” the header said simply. “Talking chat with Mr Billy Collins, our past Poet Laureate of the United States, who, when I talked to him about Gass and Gaddis, shouted "hey, I once had dinner with William Gaddis!"
My
hands were suddenly sweaty and shaking. “Johnny,” I said. “I can’t possibly do
this. This is just too scary.” “You can,” he said. “You once interviewed Stevie
Wonder in your pajamas. I know you
can do this.”
This from the man who, when he needs a recipe for
the icing that sticks gingerbread houses together, calls the White
House chef rather than googling "gingerbread house icing." And gets the
White House chef on the phone for twenty minutes.
We
wrote out a script for her. “Hello, this is Emma. May I speak with
Hannah?”
Then if the parent said Hannah wasn’t home, Emma could say, “Would you
mind telling
her that I called? Thank you" or "I'll call her back later," or "I was
just calling to invite her to play at the park..." And so on, covering
every possible contingency for pages on end. She only needed the script
for a few phone calls, and then she was fine.
And
one more envelope awaited me. When I opened it and saw the cover of the card, I burst into tears. On it was a
photograph of football players in action, with a single word below it: “Johnny”
Johnny Unitas died on September 11, 2002.
The second Johnny from the title of this post? None other than Mr Brilliant himself.
The man just flat out loves me.
A tip when talking with Billy Collins: have fun. He's so nice and so much fun and so real. He's all you said he is, but he's also very cool, the most unstuffy person. (Your husband seems very cool himself!)
Posted by: lawyerpoet | 25 December 2007 at 21:30
WOW! What an amazingly awesome gift x4!
What an amazingly awesome husband too.
Posted by: Jillian | 26 December 2007 at 08:13
Sight unseen, I'm in love with Mr. Brilliant! Whoops. . . forgot. . . I've been happily married for 16 years. But WOW! My husband has given me some great, romantic gifts, but this is a "Best Husband of All Time" sort of gift! I can't wait to hear all about your calls!
Posted by: Betsy Hilt | 26 December 2007 at 08:37
What an amazing gift from your DH! I think you should NOT overthink your calls beforehand. Just enjoy them and "go with the flow". How lucky you are to be able to talk to these people. Also, if I had a recorder, I know I would record the conversations just because I would be so out of it I would want to know what we talked about.
Have fun with the calls!
Posted by: Victoria | 26 December 2007 at 10:22
It's already after 10... I guess you're talking to him *right now*! eep!
I hope you remembered to breathe!
Posted by: Caren | 26 December 2007 at 10:23
I'm typing this on 12/26 at 7:52 am PST...so you've either just had your call with Billy C...or are still on the phone with him because he's discovered how utterly fabulous you are and simply couldn't hang up after a few minutes. Can't WAIT to hear how it went.
As for Mr. Brilliant? There are no words...
Posted by: Marilyn | 26 December 2007 at 10:53
Wow. This reminds me of one thing: "But will he love me like Calvin loves Alice?".
You are loved like Calvin loved Alice. Period.
Way to go.
Have fun.
Posted by: Amy | 26 December 2007 at 11:10
I have chills reading this post... what an amazing, insightful, brilliant (ha) gift. And I can only imagine the utter fear in your heart to have these conversations! Can't wait to read the follow-up. Yea for you!
Posted by: piscesgrrl | 26 December 2007 at 12:11
So, so, so, so, so, so wonderful!
What a -- I can't even think of the right word -- spectacular? Loving? Thoughtful? Meaningful? Supercalifragilisticespeealidocious!!!! gift.
You're a lucky lady!
Happy, Merry, Happy, Happy!
Posted by: blue girl | 26 December 2007 at 13:13
Patti!
Wow, like other readers, I got goosebumps reading this post! I'm so happy for you and happy to know you are so beloved - not that I would imagine it any other way!
Cheers and good luck (or I hope the Collins call went well!)
katie green
Posted by: Katie | 26 December 2007 at 14:35
I'm in awe and in tears.
This is the sort of adoration I am holding out for.
Posted by: grace, T | 26 December 2007 at 17:13
lawyerpoet - you were exactly right. perfectly wonderful, approachable, funny, charming man. how do you know him? thanks for your note - it calmed my nerves before I called him!
Jillian - yes, and yes!
Betsy - John was all puffed up with the thought that he has a fan. "Hey!" he yelled from the family room. "Someone is in love with me!" ;-)
Victoria - your advice was right on. Overthinking kills...I went with the flow!
Caren - I breathed! I lived! Thanks for the great advice!
Marilyn - Whew. And, really, there *are* no words for Mr Brilliant....
Amy - Oh, man. This really got to me. I love his writing about Alice. Whew....
Piscesgrrl - terror might be the better word...!
blue girl - I know...it *is* tough to come up with a word to describe its wonderfulness! And I am so lucky - you're right.
Katie - thanks for your good wishes! it was a wonderful call with my dear sweet Billy!
grace, T - wow. what a wonderful note. may you find all that you are seeking...
Posted by: patti digh | 27 December 2007 at 12:02
It's so good to know that true love is alive and well in this world! Thank you for an incredible and inspiring post!
Posted by: Joy K | 29 December 2007 at 23:14