Sixyearsunderthewheelsoftimesday’s Childe

Six. Since that perfect Louisiana day. Jeanne Leiby’s memory. The book on the desk, the memorial card inside. Her copy of the Artist’s Way on my desk, her contract signed back in 2000. She saw herself as a shadow artist. That resonates. Her handwriting points out how her teaching fit the role of the shadow artist. Now she is gone. Now I am teaching. shadow artist? Not sure. Working to improve my craft. Not enough time. Plenty of excuses. Novel nearing an end point. Too few stories from her pen. Days walking across to the Old President’s house on the LSU campus. Jeanne outside, puffing away on a cigarette, expounding on some idea or other. Always provoking the conversation. Living her dream, perhaps. Six. Reminded of Whitman, ‘O me! O life!… of the questions of these recurring; of the endless trains of the faithless… of cities filled with the foolish; what good amid these, O me, O life?’ Answer. That you are here – that life exists, and identity; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. That the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be?”