It will do you no harm to find yourself ridiculous—T.S. Eliot
I cannot rest from travel, I will drink life to the lees, come, my friends, tis not too late to seek a newer world, that’s Alfred, Lloyd Tennyson, exhorting us to join him although “the gulfs may wash us down‖
 Traveling is a fool’s paradise, that’s Ralph Waldo Emerson, –ah,
April fools!
And who’s that, we’re talking about, I’m Professor Barbara Mossberg, welcoming you to our show. Today our show is about April and what makes fools of us and how that is a good thing?— I was thinking of  you, flying this past week, to Washington, D.C. to read poetry in celebration of the Fulbright program, the 60th anniversary of the program between Finland and the U.S. at the leaf-covered blue-glass Finnish Embassy, and wondering about flying, looking out the window and wondering about this experience of being miles up in the air among and over and between the clouds, and tossed about in winds and  holding steady like some gull, and below is earth, and we’re hurtling in some arc as part of the planetary curve and space curve, and I was thinking, what if John Muir were in this plane seat, looking out, what would he think, what would he write, he who was rhapsodic about lying on grass looking up at the trees and skies and stars, Homer and Shakespeare and Milton and Burns and Wordsworth in his mind, what would Emily Dickinson write if she were here, I KNOW, she didn’t even want to get into a wagon, or train, or even on foot, “cross my father’s ground to any land or town,†what would she say, who could capture a view from her second story bedroom window over Main Street and the yard in Amherst, Massachusetts? What would Whitman do with this view? Continue reading
