Reading the work of a very good student has led me to think about Robert Bly's writing about men. Much of what he says strikes me as melodramatic, yet one of those statements, to the effect that the essence of male consciousness is the consciousness of grief, is true of me. I am not interested in male initiation rites or the beating of drums or Iron John, but his statement about grief is my reality. I also strongly doubt that is every man's reality. For them I am happy. Still, most of the men I know well face life as something to be taken on or even just endured. We rarely speak of such things. When we do, however obliquely, we recognize each other.

I suspect this drives my passion for teaching. Teaching, and writing, are affirmative, optimistic acts that warm a cold world.