On John Updike

Much will be written about John Updike. Everyone who loves literature feels a little saddened.

I was traveling back to Boston from New York when I heard the news. A day filled with business had kept me from learning that Mr. Updike had passed away.

The times I ran into Mr. Updike were mostly when I was traveling to and from New York. I should clarify that I didn’t run into Mr. Updike in the way that a friend or acquaintance does . . . rather, I mean that I was the only one who recognized that it was John Updike walking through baggage claim or sitting on the Delta Shuttle editing a manuscript.

I used my quasi-encounters with Mr. Updike as catalysts or elements in poems through the years. It was always a thrill to pass near recognizable genius.

Though never a true devotee, I was always dazzled by Mr. Updike’s eloquence. Now that he has finished with his work, many will discover or rediscover or delve deeper into the huge variety he’s left us. We’ll be dazzled further . . . and we’ll wish we had a chance to say thanks in a more direct, personal way.