A professor of rhetoric lore
Piled up all his books on the floor.
He did not need shelves
Or any house elves
To tidy his learnéd decor.
An Irish professor named Michael
Went riding upon his bi-cycle.
Up and down all the hills
Repeating the thrills:
His personal way to re-cycle.
A scholar of rhetoric lore
Went biking, the hills to explore.
He peddled while drinking,
And tranquilly thinking,
But came back exceedingly sore.
Happy 80, Matey!
Dear Michael, I have so many great memories of you, and a good number of them involve cycling with you over the hills surrounding Troy, and also the fun and enlightenment of talking with you over a few beers (ok in my case, a case of them, but in my defense, I’m several times your size). Really I knew I was in excellent hands ever since that RPI PR trip upon which you invited me. We drove to College of the Holy Cross over in Worcester MA, where I was to testify that being an LL&C PhD student was a magnificent thing. I had no trouble testifying, especially since the night before we met with Holy Cross students, you and I drove around to several Worcester bars. You introduced me to “weissbier,” and it was a revelation–I was a novice, having come over from teetotalism only a few years before. And you graciously stopped the car for me to use the side of the road whenever nature called, and I never felt the least impulse of a frown from you. Tranquility, rather. I remember this distinctly, and with gratitude. And you taught me that “Worcester” is pronounced “Wooster,” which I resisted and laughed at for a while, but eventually you convinced me.
Oh yes and you also taught me some interesting things about “rhetoric” during my years at RPI. Thanks for that, too.
Ok final confession: over the years I have prized that little LL&C newsletter article you wrote entitled “The Place of Rhetoric,” featuring your noble countenance and sentiments. I keep putting it up on my office door and on the cork board near my door. I have multiple copies. Just sharing with the world about one of my most honored mentors and friends.
Russ Hirst
Thanks for reminding me that once upon a time I had the confidence to ride my bicycle on roads. I stick to bike trails now. But you make no mention of the dinner in Seattle during which you poured a full glass of ice-water into the lovely dish of pasta and tiny scallops, from which I had taken but one delicious mouthful before you decided that Ice-water would improve the taste. It didn’t. Have I forgiven you? Guess.