Morning Thanks--Light in late May

Let me say it this way--I'm about one good morning from being out of my office at the college, one good morning.  Home is a different story but I'm learning that sheer bulk doesn't mean much.  Getting all the books out of three separate floor-to-ceiling (well, just about) book cases was no small project.  But the pickins' what's left takes forever.  In a way, there's nothing left in the office, but what's there will take hours--maybe one good morning.

I say that only because I've learned, at this point in the clearing house that callouses eventually develop.  An old colleague of mine told me that it took him about an hour before he started pitching hard-copy files by the armful.  I'm there.  Have been for quite a while.

Not long ago, some workstudy student from the college library came with a hand truck and hefted a couple hundred books that no one--prof or student--wanted.  Boxed 'em up and hauled 'em away.  I shed nary a tear.  You get hard-hearted.

And then I got this e-mail note, yesterday, from a student at a Tennessee university I'd honestly never heard of--Freed-Hardeman:  

I some how received your copy of William Faulkner's Light in August.  I want to thank you for the notes in the book. I understood so much more of the book due to your notes.

I don't know how she got hold of that novel.  It couldn't have come from my end-of-career housecleaning because that book could not have made it out to Tennessee that quickly.  

For a while already I've told some students to cherry-pick from my college library, to take what they want.  I'm guessing one of them grabbed it, along with others, then got all entrepreneur-ish on me and sold the gift after I gave it to him.  This Freed-Hardeman student picked it up somewhere and voila! gets a ton of professorial annotations in the bargain.

I taught Faulkner years ago in a course in American novel.  It makes sense that I'd mark the blame thing up because I always do, so I don't doubt for a moment that this kid bought herself a treasure.  I hope she lit up her prof's eyes when she, somewhat mysteriously, answered a boatload of questions, sometimes even brilliantly.  I love that scenario.

I had a sweet day yesterday, mailed back the very last bit of student writing I ever will, pre-retirement.  But this young lady from Freed-Hardeman made my day.  I've seen hundreds of books depart in the last three weeks, but to know that one of them at least was a prize made my cavernous office seem a sweet haven.  

This morning I'm thankful for some ex-favorite student of mine who peddled a book I gave him to another kid who found herself blessed with meaning she says she wouldn't have had without it.  

And I'm just thankful I know.  After all, I've got lots more books to cull.  More callouses, but  then maybe even more blessings to bestow.  Sweet.