 I should tell you about the Squirrel Hill Sages. Herb and I were discussing how our students had the most interesting conversations, you know, the meaning of life and all that stuff. And we're stuck with conversations about the Xerox budget and, you know, can we add another course? And should this course be two semesters or one? You know, really dull stuff. And I said, you know, how can this be? And Herb, and I'm sure this was by correspondence, a U.S. post, by the way, because nobody had personal email, you very rarely had personal email, Herb said, you know, Dot and I used to have a little salon when we were at the University of Chicago on Sunday nights. And everybody knew it was serious. You didn't come in just to gossip, you came in to discuss a topic of the day. You could do that. You could do that, meaning me. And I said, oh, Herb, that sounds wonderful. Okay, I will do it. And we decided that it should be a very small number. I think there were eight of us. Alan Nuland, his wife, Herb Simon, and Dorothea Simon, the novelist, Mark Harris, and his wife, Josephine, and Joe and I. And we met monthly. We decided the topic ahead of time. It was after dinner, so nobody had to run around being the host or anything like that. And privately, I call them the Squirrel Hill Sages, because we all lived in Squirrel Hill. But they found out soon enough, and they laughed, and that was okay. We had some fabulous conversations, just fabulous. You could imagine those eight in one room talking. It was just great. It was one of the high points of living in Pittsburgh.