I know we have--
[APPLAUSE]
We're getting close to Thanksgiving.
I want to end on a celebratory poem.
And when-- my father was born in Mexico.
My mother was born in England.
And when they had their first Thanksgiving on the border,
my mother made my father a pecan pie.
She accidentally used a cup of salt instead of a cup of sugar.
She was so proud of her pie.
My father loved pecan pie and when he came home, they just--
this was their first month of marriage,
and she was so proud of this.
And in those days, people worked on holidays.
I mean, my father came home on Thanksgiving day
and they had this whole thing planned.
And they're saving it.
It's all centered around this pie.
And when he puts it in his mouth, of course--
my mother started to cry.
My father put his arm around her,
took her back into the kitchen, And they made another pie
together that night, and then they made pecan pies together
for the whole rest of their lives.
Every year it grew.
So by their heyday, they were making 50 pies or so.
[LAUGHTER]
It's the rum, my mother would say.
[LAUGHTER]
This is a poem about pies.
Two sections, called "Perfect for Any Occasion."
One.
"Pies have a reputation.
And it's immediate.
No talk of potential regarding a pie.
It's good or it isn't.
Right then, right there.
Sweet, very sweet, blue and red.
It can't go to junior college, work hard for the grades,
work two jobs on the side.
It can't slowly build a reputation and a growing client
base.
A pie gets one chance and knows it.
Wearing as makeup those sparkling granules
of sugar, as a collar those diamond cutouts bespeaking Fair
Day, felicity, contentment.
I tell you everything is great, says a pie.
Great, and fun, and fine.
And you smell nice, too, someone says.
A full pound of round sound, all ahh.
Pies live a life of applause."
Two.
"But then there are the other pies.
The leftover pies.
The ones nobody chooses at Thanksgiving.
Mincemeat?
What the hell is that, people ask,
pointing instead at a double helping of Mr.
I- can- do- no- wrong pecan pie.
But the unchosen pies have a long history, too.
They have plenty of good stories, places they've been.
They were once fun, too.
But nobody wants to listen to them anymore.
Oh sure, everybody used to love lard.
But things have changed, brother, things have changed.
That's never the end of the story, of course.
Some pies make a break for it.
Live underground for a while, doing what they can,
talking fast, trying to be sweet pizzas, if they're lucky.
But no good comes of it.
Nobody is fooled.
A pie is a pie for one great day.
Last week, it was Jell-O. Tomorrow, it'll be cake."
Congratulations to the MFA Program
at University of Arizona.
[APPLAUSE]
And thank you all for being here.