Two days after announcing his retirement, Mordecai stopped by the office today to check his mail. He's getting a steady flow of calls, e-mails, and cards. He joked that he was proud to be lining the bottoms of birdcages, since he was in the local paper yesterday.
On the way to work today, I was thinking about something about him reminds me of one of my favorite poets, Philip Larkin. Both men are (or were) gregarious bachelors with a melancholy side and infectious zest for life.
Mordecai’s currently enjoying a well-deserved week in the Sun of Media Attention. He’s also inspired a poem of his own from listener Paul Wilson.
a gem of a guy named Mor-de-cai (but without hyphens, actually)
a consumate host,
maintaining superb hospitality always,
whose selections made the close of the afternoon
and the beginning of the evening very delightful
and often moving, edifying,
whose fairness and acceptance of those whose background
and, possibly, belief and practice were different from his own,
posed no hindrance, and who loved to glean the best of each
lastly, a man whose acquaintance and handshake I was delighted
aquire at the close of the Live from Hochstein concert in which
Christopher Seaman conducted an outstanding, and not unique
for the sake of being quirky, rendition of Shubert's Eighth....
I am pleased to hear you will be a regular part-time host for I
hope many years to come. Godspeed; my prayers go with