Professor Harvey B., the person from whom I have learned the most in an academic setting, has just informed me that he's been “offered the opportunity for a heart transplant,” and expects the operation will take place in early September at the Stanford Medical Center.

I cannot overstate the impact this man has had on my life. It was the paper I wrote for his Myth and Symbolism class that I presented at the Chico State EGSC conference — the conference where I met a fellow co-panelist who, a year and a half later, became my husband. Harvey was also the person who opened my eyes to the magnificence of Britian's finest poet, artist, mystic, and prophet, and his legacy will live on in my son's middle name, “Blake.”

I'm stuck here on the other coast and, being pregnant, can't even give blood in his name. So, please, if you're eligible, donate some blood this week in thanks for Harvey, and pray to whichever all-powerful force you believe in, be it God, Yahweh, Jesus, Shakespeare, Fellini, or that cute Golden Retriever puppy down the street. As a leading scholar of myth and symbolism, it will all be the same to Harvey, I feel certain.