Nasrudin is close to my heart. I remember him very often, and the memory invariably brings a smile to my face. When he came to my mind earlier today, I decided to check my writings for all the mentions of him. Not surprisingly, there are quite a few. He is sometimes referred to simply as Nasrudin, and sometimes as Nasrudin Hoca, which means “teacher” in Turkish and several other languages of Turkic origin. In a few places, though, he is referred to as Nasreddin or Nasreddin Khoja, a variant of Hoja, as well as Mulla Nasrudin, where Mulla is the head of a mosque, and thus a teacher. At any rate, I found twenty-three pieces with his name, of which a large number are his tales plucked from the literature entire. There is one piece each in 1985, 1995, 1997, 1999, 2016, and 2019; two each in 2014 and 2017; three in 2012; and as many as ten in 2013. The last piece, which was penned earlier this year, is actually dedicated to Nasrudin half in jest (“The Mighty Eight,” June 16, 2019). But I am outright delighted by three pieces that liken me to the wise fool in no uncertain terms (“Nasrudin and I,” December 5, 2012; “Nasrudin and I, Again,” January 20, 2013; and “Nasrudin and I, Again and Again,” February 10, 2013). I, too, am a wise fool, no doubt whatsoever. Nasrudin and I, for ever and ever!