I have on my bookshelf a dog-eared paperback copy of Ursula K. Le Guin’s 1985 novel Always Coming Home. In it is an inscription from Le Guin:
For my good shepherd Alison
from her grateful sheep,
with love – Ursula
Rochester
15 1 88
In 1987, my first year in college, I happened upon a notice outside of the English department for a winter session opportunity: escorting a visiting artist during a week-long interdisciplinary conference held at my school, the University of Rochester. I ran my finger down the list of artists’ names until it stopped on one: Ursula K. Le Guin.