at 3.15 i was pulling on a coat and rummaging on my bed but my julius caesar simply cannot be found. i always have the option of taking my norton shakespeare, of course, although i'd much rather not. people know how i feel about complete shakespeares. finally at 3.30 i had no choice but to grab the new swan julius caesar that i happen to own *cover face*. a new swan shakespeare, for you who do not know, is a beginner's edition, that would gloss "anon" and "ere" for you, and waste all its footnotes paraphrasing difficult passages, and includes summaries between acts. tremendously laukui to be seen carrying it. i don't think nohrnberg likes julius caesar at all, because his classes on julius caesar have been a lot less interesting or inspired than his other classes, and that might explain why he keeps giving henry iv classes (to put off j.c.) so i was sitting in class getting somewhat bored and making a list of things to do but after class he said to me : "i described every piece of fish to mrs nohrnberg yesterday." that cheered me up tremendously. in fact. yesterday was excellent. i didn't expect him to stay with us for more than an hour and a half, but by the time we were walking across the lawn, back from the corner, nohrnberg looked at the clock on the rotunda and gave a start. can that be right?! we all looked at (or in my case, for) our watches and indeed it was 3.45 already. 3 hour lunch! and him with 25 milton papers to grade too, and telling me gruffly the week before: it can't be all afternoon!

at 12.30 sharp yesterday bob reeder and i are waiting outside nohrnberg's office looking somewhat sheepish in our sunday best trying to do the last-minute smooth your hair and tuck in your shirt thing. nohrnberg appears: he has no tie on, but is wearing his jacket over a dark blue shirt. he is embarrassed, in a pleased sort of way, for he was very gruff. well, let's go then, he barks. where to. the japanese restaurant we went to turns out to be the perfect choice, though we didn't know this beforehand. we chose it because it was particularly good for long sits and conversation, and indeed that day the restaurant was quiet, with only two other tables filled. what we didn't expect was that prof nohrnberg loves sashimi, but doesn't get it terribly often, because mrs n isn't fond of it. his initial gruffness disappears rapidly once we're seated, and he is his quirky and easygoing self again. an afternoon with nohrnberg is magic. any conversation would be, let alone a 3 hour lunch. he talks about everything to us. books, people, ideas, history, his life story. that was one reason i couldn't write about all this yesterday, because i haven't begun to sort it all out. afterwards i can't remember what had taken place, except for the first and last thing he said, i only have a general dizzy feeling of having heard a lot about alot:

the blue flower in german writing. the knox brothers, martin amis' time's arrow, simon gray's the common pursuit, berkeley weather, juries. his daughter and northrop frye. thurber's letters. we establish that penelope fitzgerald is the daughter of edmund knox, and bob and professor talk about a faulkner story called "the bear". he describes a poem he had written, years ago, for a poetry competition at the bayley art museum: resurrections and angels were the theme. art can resurrect, and resurrection can be a choice. his son had thought it was brilliant and said he was bound to win. he didn't. i don't think i really understand nohrnberg and his yearly participation. "i take it [his poetry] more seriously than my scholarship" i know he would have preferred to become a poet rather than a professor, and i don't think he's ever given up that hope. the first half of his life looks like the biography of any other person who might be on the academy of american poets list: won the poetry prize at kenyon college, and then at harvard. these ppl became mark strand and charles wright. "i don't know what went wrong" he says. he used to lived on the same street as sharon olds. "i guess she wasn't as dopey as i thought" maybe it is a little like, seeing the moment of your greatness flicker? art as resurrection then. winning as ressurection. that, i understand, but i still am not sure i understand why he does take part in this one every year and feels so strongly about it. that he doesn't win, proves nothing, and if he were to, he'd maybe be a little contemptuous of winning too. he knows who the judges are most years, and he thinks the judges somewhat dunces, so how then could election by dunces be of satisfaction?

when the bill comes it is placed in front of him, as the oldest person in our party, but while he is reaching for his wallet bob and i wrestle it away from him. am i not allowed to contribute to the financial end of this? no! we chorused. it is an honour for us! and indeed it was. when i repeated his "fish" quote to bob tonight, bob said, no, i'm moved by his impulse to share every piece of fish with us. and then i suddenly remembered this and was touched again, too. it was early on in the lunch. nohrnberg's sashimi platter had come with four kinds of fish. we have just started into our food when he tasted his mackerel and exclaimed, this is amazing! you've got to try this. he only had 2 slices of it left, but he cuts up one of them for us. in fact, he says, try some of everything. and he proceeds, carefully, to cut off two pieces from each kind of fish, and offers them to us. we accept without protest. we were children, in a way. and to partake of the same dish as the venerable and amazing professor n was not something that happened everyday. and we were mere mortals.