I was twenty-two when I attended a reading by Katherine Anne Porter. This was a hot and humid evening at Richmond University, before we came to expect air conditioning in every building. It seems to me it was held in a chapel, standing room only. She was robust, in a pulpit, above all of us. Her hair was thick and gloriously white, a result of her contracting Spanish flu in the fall of 1918. She wore flashy emeralds, earrings and a necklace, and a white pantsuit. She bragged a little about the emeralds. Regal is a word I’d put to her.