Pray for me, won’t you?

Tomorrow, I’m giving the Cremins Lecture at University of Hartford, which is an honor and I’d be over the moon  to be asked if I wasn’t so damn nervous.

I’m not usually nervous. Give me a mic and I’m happy as a clam, but this time, I’ve agreed to talk about Frog Hollow, as in “Searching for the American Dream in Frog Hollow,” the book I’m working on for Wesleyan University Press about a particularly interesting neighborhood in Hartford. It’s the first time I’ve talked about my research, other than to say, “Hey! I’m writing a book!” It almost feels like I need to pony up — and I think I knew that when I agreed to talk about Frog Hollow rather than Isabella Beecher Hooker, whom I talk about in my sleep, I’m told. This upcoming speech has forced me to stay on task with my research. (I grew up in a newsroom and entertain myself with the notion that I work best under pressure. That is a lie. No one works best under pressure. It’s an excuse to put off working.)

The lecture is named after Patricia Cremins, an educator who died in 2011 and left a big hole \when she left. She was long-time president of UHa’s President’s College, a really cool program that extends the university’s educational efforts into the broader community.

I wish I’d met her. She sounds fascinating.