Dave Wood

I don’t know if it’s just a universal feeling, but for me looking back on 20-plus years of teaching, the memories of it aren’t always that great. I remember boring kids to death lecturing on Milton’s Areopagitica; of students dropping a course because I tried to make a case for poetry that rhymes; because of my attempt to warn them of the dangers of the comma splice; because they disdained my advice to check their spelling whenever they wrote a job application letter. Yes, they were bored with lectures, and this old goat was bored with them and their enthusiasm for fashionable learning techniques like LTD (Learning Through Discussion) and Pass or no Pass course grade. END OF RANT!

But every once in a while, something positive in my failed teaching career pops up. I see such stuff whenever my wife brightens up because a letter to her arrives from a former student to thank her for the attention she lavished on her classes.

And faith and begorra. I brightened up when a package arrived from one of my old students, a kid (he’s more than 60!) named Mike Pickett. The package contained Mike’s first book, a memoir entitled ”The Arrogance of Infinity.” (Gatekeeper Press, $15) Mike had inscribed it “To Dave —you started this— Mike.” He goes on to dedicate his tome to wife Mary Beth, who “doesn’t care for the memoir genre and hasn’t read this one.”

I do care for the memoir genre because I’ve made much of my living employing it. How do I get credit for starting Mike’s book? Well, a few years back Mike, who works as a publicist for food companies, sent me an essay about driving home from Madison and seeing a run-down saloon out in the country and figured he’d stop for a beer. What followed was a marvelous account of meeting Mae, the bar’s owner, who dished up a Miller High Life and good conversation. In a faded house dress she sat down to her piano and played “The Missouri Waltz,’” to honor Mike’s new bride who hailed from the Show-me state. I wrote Mike back a note that said “Mike: write 40 more like this one and you’d have the book you’ve been talking about for the past 40 years.”

Long story short, Mike, by golly, did it! And the end product makes me very proud. ”The Arrogance of Infinity” ranks right up there with some of the favorite memoirists I have reviewed in the past, like Samuel Hyne’s excellent “Growing Seasons and Flights of Passage” (Viking), David Benjamin’s “Memories of the last Kid to Be Picked” (Random House) and John Durand’s “Behind Enemy Lines” (Puzzlebox Press). My former student’s puckish wit is everywhere present, even in somber moments such as the death of his beloved mother. The topics he chose straddle two very different chapters of the American experience. From a chat with Neil Armstrong days after his Moon Landing to a 30-year feud with Cal Ripken about Mike and Beth’s “thievery” at the Clinton White House.

Mike’s occupation takes him all over the country, and he harvests his experience with charm and gusto. One of my favorites tells of young whippersnapper Mike making a bet with a bunch of Phoenix celebs he knew where Hall of Fame coach Lute Olson played college basketball.

“Long Beach State?” “Luther College?” Mayville, N.D.?”

“Sorry fellas,” answered Mike, “It was Augsburg College, Minneapolis, Minn., my alma mater,” where he started writing and served as a popular columnist for the college newspaper, when I served as adviser.   His ruminations as a player on the hapless Augsburg football team are hilarious. He served on the special team as wedge-buster on the kickoff squad. And almost missed the biggest day of his athletic life (if you don’t count creative broomballing). That was when he was to travel with the team to play Colorado College in Colorado Springs. He almost didn’t make the list of eligible players, but finally did (then almost missed the plane to Colorado, but in the last minute did). The Auggies beat Colorado’s team, and “carried by divine purpose, posted the victory, like Martin Luther nailing up the Protestant treatise at Wittenberg, attaching it on the gym wall with athletic tape,’’ writes Mike, who was raised Roman Catholic. “All’s well that ends well.” That last line is what really impresses me—Mike Pickett’s indomitable optimism.

This is a crazy good memoir.  Maybe this old goat could take a few lessons from him! And Mary Beth: Take a look at your hubby’s work. A taste of it might convert you to the memoir!