I recently passed a church sign that promised a "chalk talk," a vintage routine, the value of which often surpasses many high-tech presentations.

I like to know people still do talks without a computer program or slides. I figure what they're saying is pretty meaty and they don't need extra props.

Years ago I spoke over at the University of Georgia, quite by accident, and the props I'd brought didn't help much. I sure could've used a horse.

To tell the truth, I wasn't scheduled to speak. I merely entered the auditorium the wrong way and was later ushered up the podium to speak to a graduating class of artists.

And I threw some slides in the car for good measure to show old comrades the kind of work I'd been doing, thinking the event would be an informal flip-flop mixer.

I was sitting in the back section of the packed room when I saw one of my slides projected onto the giant screen below. It looked vaguely familiar.

Then, some gear in the back of my brain suddenly engaged and I slowly stood, marveling that one of my slides was projected in front of the crowd.

"Well, I, uh, well sir, why, I guess, ah ..." I began. The lights were intense and disorienting, like light tunnels you see on TV specials about out-of-body experiences.

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