The phone call came mid-afternoon in February of 1996. The program chair for the annual meeting for the Southern Society of Philosophy and Psychology wanted to make sure he had the facts right. "e;This is somewhat unusual..."e; he began. "e;You're a philosophy professor who wants to present to psychologists in the psychology portion of the meeting."e; "e;That's right."e; "e;Well your paper was accepted for that part of the program but the others just wanted me to check and make sure that's where you want to be presenting."e; "e;That's right."e; Reassured, the professor wished me luck and said good-bye. In my session at the meeting, I was the last to present. As my time approached, the medium-sized room slowly became crowded. I dreamed that these psychologists had left their other meetings early to make sure to catch my presentation on the use of metaphors in attention research. As I arose to present I noticed that the half-full room had become standing room only! Finally, after years of feeling as if I was struggling alone in promoting and defending a phenomenology of attention, I had an eager audience for my message. My persistence had paid off. I delivered my message with passion.