Fame & Fotune, err, I am not Christopher Buckley
on. I explained that I was a poet; she said she knew that and had obtained my home phone number from Vanderbilt University Press who published two of my books. Yes, I replied, those are my books, but you are looking for the other guy. No, she emphatically reinforced that she wanted me to be on the show next week. By this point in time, I had come to learn that the other CB had been a speech-writer for George Bush, and moreover my politics were 1802 different from his. Without too much thought, I could see that she wanted me/him to offer insider evaluations of the candidate. This woman was used to people dodging requests to appear, and she kept after me until I offered an evaluation of Bush and the Republicans-something about Iran-gate, lying, the selling of America as opposed to honoring the social contract of government-that finally left no doubt in her mind that she had the wrong man, and she hung up before I finished. In 1996 I received a very nice invitation to read at the 30th Annual Sophomore Literary Festival at the University of Notre Dame. The letter came to my department office in Pennsylvania; a young woman with the very horse-and-hounds name of Hunter Campaigne was the chair of the event and seemed to know who and where I was. I was asked to give one reading and a workshop, accommodations were covered, but "an honorarium is negotiable" the letter said. I figured the cost of a rent-a-car, driving time as I hate to fly, and wrote back accepting, but saying that I would need at least $500 in honorarium. I looked at the list of past participants and could see I would be among the great and the glamorous-they had had Diane Wakoski, Tim O'Brien, Gwendolyn Brooks, Tobias Wolff, Sharon Olds, Galway Kinell, Derek Walcott, T. Coraghessan Boyle, but also a few folks closer to my level further down the ladder, and one or two I had never heard of. It was me they wanted, I told myself. But if I'd read back further on the list, to the late 1960s, I'd have seen William R Buckley, Jr., George Plimpton and the like and the buzzer should have gone off. But I didn't, it didn't. I had another letter from Hunter Campaigne requesting a CV and a current photo before she could finalize my appearance at the festival. I was currently out of photos but sent the CV and never heard from her again. The deal killer was asking for the $500-not too much, too little. When they received such a meager request, they knew I was not the Christopher Buckley they wanted. They wanted the writer of the light novel, The White House Mess, and Steaming to Bamboola. The famous don't show for $500. In 2001, I received a second National Endowment for the Arts grant in poetry. Speaking with the coordinator after she gave me the good news, she told me who the judges were, and my response was, "Someone made a mistake." I couldn't believe that the poets on that list would choose my work, poetry politics being what they are. But there were more judges than in the past and so not every judge read your work. Some angel had guided Winter 2005
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