Moment no. 1: It's the mid-1970s. I'm in graduate school at the University of Kansas. Ron Willis, a student of Brock's at Iowa in the 1960s and a brilliant, wise man, is teaching his class “The History of the Theatrical Event”; the required texts include Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance and The Crack in the Cosmic Egg (the midseventies were more or less the tail end of the sixties). We begin with the Greeks, and Ron asks, “How much was entry into the theatre?” Of course I'm prepared and know the answer. I jump in: “Two obols.” Then he says, “How much was a loaf of bread?” My head explodes. This was a moment when I got something about not just the economies of theatre, but about its ecology as well—its situatedness. I know my realization is a no-brainer rather than a mind-blower, but for me, given the year and my background, it was germinal.