Chad’s Near Miss

Chad Engbers “almost met Frederick Buechner”:; he writes about in a way that reminds me that the world would be a better place if Chad had time to blog more often. I went through a big Buechner phase right around the same time as he did, and, like him, still rate _Godric_, _The Book of Bebb_, and _Telling the Truth_ as first-rate books. Unlike Chad, though, I _would_ feel the need to say something to the guy, and would inevitably embarrass myself as a result. In the past I’ve managed to say stupid and/or stupidly obvious things in front of Suzanne Vega and Dave Barry, and been stunned into silence in the presence of “the Johns”: There must be others that I’m forgetting. The only celebrity artist I’ve managed to carry on an intelligent conversation with is John Barth, and that’s because we were stuck in a car together for a couple of hours and I had only read one of his books. Turns out you can go far on a shared love of Scheherazade.