Writing or lack thereof

Recently, I got a call from my Alma Mater, asking me to donate $100 to the school.  I could do it quarterly, so I said "Why not?"  even in these economic times, I think I can swing $25 every three months.

I got a gracious letter from the Dean of Humanities ( I have a degree in English, as I am fond of pointing out, which means I can quote Chaucer while asking if you would like fries with that.)  She invited me to contact her assistant and arrange a tour and lunch.  Seriously, I would be ashamed to have such attention for a measly $100, which was the point, I suppose.  They would probably get more money out of me if I went so,  no.

In talking to the Poly Sci major who solicited me ( good training if you are going to work in politics, right?)  I talked about what I was involved in at CSUN.  It's been a long time, but she made me remember working on the school literary magazine, then called "Angel's Flight"  She said she had never heard of it. That made me sad, but I looked it up. They still DO one, it's just called something else- the Northridge Review, I think.

As I looked at things regarding Angels' Flight, there was a lot of it I remember differently.  Time smooths things over, I suppose,

The Editor ( who was listed as the founder, but that's just BS) was a woman I disliked. She didn't care for me either, but I was "allowed" to stay and work because they needed bodies.  I had worked on literary magazines in High School and college and had initially hoped to be some kind of editor ( I was good at it, even if I CAN'T edit my own stuff worth a tinker's dam)  She was killed in a car accident the summer between my junior and senior year, which she had prophetically written about in a poem called "Premonition"  She was older than I was and I think she was going for her doctorate.  After her death,  all of her mean girl behavior- and she was for all intents and purposes a mean girl- were swept under the rug.  I believe we dedicated the next edition of the magazine to her, fitting and proper even if she were not a nice person.  In the minds of a few she was a saint and a brilliant poet and her loss was mourned all over the poetry world.   I remain neutral. Maybe because I knew and disliked her, I failed to see that she was this brilliant wordsmith everyone talks about.  I tried to re-read some of her things recently and still feel her work was average, as mine was.  I have to be honest with myself.  I enjoy writing, but poetry is a minuscule market and you have to be dazzlingly brilliant to be a working poet.  It is a craft I enjoy and I may go back to work at it,just for myself.  I love the feeling of finding just the right word to express what I am feeling.  I try to use as few words as I can to convey the emotion.  It's a puzzle, but I enjoy the process.

I am not going to take the Dean up on her gracious offer. It would feel wrong to me. One of these days, I will go back to the Campus and see the changes. I graduated in 1980.  The 1994 earthquake reshaped the school and I wonder if I will miss the old campus or delight in the new ones.  I should visit the Oviatt Library I practically lived there my last semester.  It has been renovated, something I know a bit about.  We'll see.