As a second-generation American from a blue-collar family, whose parents never graduated high school, I found college to be emancipating. Thus I became a teacher to share the far-reaching world the arts and humanities offer. Our society, our country, might be better if we in the humanities would “shout, and . . . draw large and startling figures”1 as Flannery O’Connor said in her defense of the Christian vision. During a recent symposium in Rome to promote novelist Willa Cather in Europe, I was dismayed to find that the conference yielded little evidence of the author’s significance and was more or less limited to esoteric presentations by scholars devoted to their pet interests. There was little awareness of the need to shout, to describe Cather’s bold European immigrants, colonists, and missionaries.