We used to write little songs in our own honor (no one else would do it in those days). No, we didn’t get together and sing them; we just liked to have them around. This one goes back about sixteen years, and is set to a tune you may deduce for yourself.
From the Fields’ way down in Florida
To the halls of Evanston,
We’ll collect your books and magazines
And we’ll act as if it’s fun!
We’ll pick up those beat-up Harlequins
And your first editions too;
We will sort and price and pack them up;
Then we’ll sell them back to you!
Footnote: the reference to the Fields’ of Florida is about a very brief period when we were the main North American distributors of Field Research Reports, which we got in one semi trailer load from Miami. This story does not end happily: the Conservation Librarian at the time was so terrified of an importation of Floridian insects that I was given one weekend to sell everything and get it away from the building. I got to inventory the truckload box by box and bug by bug (I found one squashed spider and nothing else, but this was considered mere anecdotal evidence). We received, I believe, about $1,000 for the lot. Ay de mi.