Thursday, February 18, 2010

The Graves of Famous Dead People

Aunt Hilda--feel free to rag on me about this later.

Since I have lived in Oxford, I have not been to visit Rowan Oak, or William Faulkner's mansion. Shame on me, I know. However, last night I made a different sort of pilgrimage in honor of the Mississippi writer. A Fulbright scholar here from Russia was visiting our campus and asked one of the PhD students (Pip-who concentrates in Faulkner studies) to take him to Faulkner's grave before he left to go back home. But any ole graveside visit wouldn't do-- leave it to Pip to turn it into a seance.

The invitation:
Visit Faulkner's grave at midnight tonight! Ivan's bringing a reading and I'm bringing moonshine!

The tools:
warm, warm clothing
Library of America's collection of Faulkner stories
Pip's moonshine that he procured in Jackson, TN from a recently freed prisoner
a flashlight

So, Ivan started reading from Light in August and Pip passed around his moonshine. (--which I tasted, but since I was the DD, it was just that--a taste. Amy said it had a weird aftertaste of butterscotch. I don't recall a flavor, but it did make my ears warm for a second.) He gave the toast, "Olé, Grandfather." Going along with tradition, we poured some for "Mr. Bill" and some for Estelle. It is hard to tell in the picture, but Faulkner's stone absorbed the whiskey while we were there, and Estelle's just left it as a puddle, because as a lady, she doesn't drink in public, of course.



After we enjoyed Ivan's reading, we learned some Faulkner trivia from one of our professors who showed up to christen our visit, and then we traded cat stories. Then it was over. But here is the event sketched out for you in photographs. I think we gave the Faulkners quite a tribute that perhaps they would have appreciated.

"Olé, Grandfather."



Bundled.

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