CELEBRATING CHARLES BERNSTEIN

I don't believe I've been in a room with this many poets since the last time Philadelphia hosted an MLA off-site reading.  This was every bit as joyous an occasion.

Now you have to understand; Charles Bernstein is six months older than I am, something for which I have never forgiven him.  When he and I were both 12 years old, Stevie Wonder, also 12 years old, had a hit record. I remember Stevie was on TV performing that hit, Fingertips Part 2, when my sister gave me a look as if to say, "where's your hit record, smarty pants."  Some years later, I'm minding my own business, reading Bernstein's first book, when my sister gives me that same look again. And now I mention that Charles is retiring, and . . .  well, you know.

Now, we both wear hats -- a lot of hats -- but given that I am so much younger than Charles, I've taken to leaving my fedora at home and sporting a cap in public.

But we were all herded together at Kelly Writers House by the perpetually organized and happy Al Filreis (the other Kelly professor of poetry in Pennsylvania), for the purpose of celebrating the aged one's birthday and taking note of his retiring from Penn (that other university with "Penn" in its name).

We found almost uncountable ways to say "well done, maestro," and there was cake and barbeque and a tee shirt -- and a Charles Bernstein Mixtape, which is actually not a tape at all but a book, and a book whose title rather dates all of us, doesn't it.

All under the watchful eye of the watchers, of course.  Every inch of this is likely to wind up on Penn Sound before you know it, so that all of you who were not in Philadelphia that night can have almost as much fun, to the extent that it's possible to have fun without barbeque and cake and a fedora.

So here are any number of toasts to Charles Bernstein, who sets a horrible example for me by retiring.  He'll be writing to each and every one of us daily, thank the lord.