When you’re famous, you’re famous. You just can’ t help it. People recognize you on the street. They want your autograph and they want to have their pictures taken with you. That’s just the way it is, I guess.

Thanks to jetlag, this morning I’m down for breakfast at an unusually appropriate hour. With a long beard and a hoodie, I have no intention of socializing: usually before 11 in the morning I don’t have the gift of speech.

From the excited faces of those sitting at the restaurant tables I can tell that the conference is about to begin. It seems to me I recognize someone, but since facebook has been around, I don’t even know anymore who it is that I really know and who I would like to get to know, so to avoid complications I try not to meet anybody’s gaze before it’s time for my speech. What’s more, I ended up with my face printed nice and visible on the conference program and it happens to look pretty much like the one I’m wearing this morning.

I am roasting my two slices of toast, without taking my eyes off the rotating toaster, a sight that always engrosses me. I wait for the punctual fall of the slices, put them on my plate and go to the table, following the shorter and less beaten track. Everything goes smoothly, nobody recognizes me, just the way it was supposed to be. I eat my breakfast slowly, talking with Fulvia in a low voice. It looks as though today, too, I can bask in complete anonymity.

Then suddenly just what you are not expecting: one of the two ladies with an intellectual air sitting at the table in front of us, stares me right in the face, smiles at me and before I have time to react says to me: “Are you… done with the ketchup?”

Done? I haven’t even started yet, actually, but I’m happy to hand it to her.

I understand this is a sign that today is the right day to cut class and go to university. To Stanford, specifically: a magical and silent place where thought is protected by the huge park surrounding it, and where hundreds of squirrels keep a good watch over the bright minds of the future.

To finish off, I stopped at the legendary Mental Research Institute, where in the past great minds have come together to create the modern science of psychotherapy and communication.

That same evening, back at the hotel, I meet Judy (DeLozier), who welcomes me with that funny affection that makes her so special. Then I barely have the time to call Dave, Erickson’s son-in-law, who this weekend is going to guide us to Milton’s places, in search of his less known stories. Tomorrow morning my presentation and then we’re on our way to Phoenix!