At the University Club, my father and I are seated in a booth in the atrium and asked to watch a film which consists in a series of Fame-like dance numbers. When it is over, I explain to one of the dancers that, while each of the scenes had movements that were interesting in themselves, I had trouble grasping the story they were trying to tell. As we check out, my father makes a point of tipping the doorman, who happens to be one of my favorite poets, Charles Simic. He undertips.