Ah, the solemnity of an Ivy League graduation. All the young Brahmins in their gown-hidden letter sweaters and navy suits and pleated skirts, nodding pleasantly at Mummy and Dad before they step onto the platform in orderly and dignified fashion to receive their diplomas and bid quietly regretful farewells to Jimmy Wright in person.
Okay, it's the last time you'll have your column run in a college paper. This is your exit, man. What do you write about?
As every scientist knows, there are only a few characteristics that separate humankind from the rest of the animal kingdom.
Everything's got an expiration date nowadays. Have you noticed? Foodstuffs, batteries, film, contraceptives -- each of them marked for an eventual demise.
What of this "Valentine's Day?" A friend of mine has christened it Black Thursday, akin to that famous day of the plagues in the Middle Ages -- Black Friday.
Taking an English Department course here at Dartmouth is always a source of joy and scholastic wonder for me.
In these overcrowded days, even the act of grabbing a bite to eat can feel like a chore. Who among us has not been witness to the surging masses of people stifling Food Court at prime meal time (6 to 7:30 p.m.)? I and hundreds of others have felt buffeted by the throngs, have traveled through the bane of claustrophobics in that basic quest for sustenance.
Some nights I have a dream that I'm back in a high school theatre production, wilting under the unforgiving offstage gaze of the director.
Recently I received a small green card in my Hinman Box advertising something called "White Ribbon Day" slated for this Saturday, Nov.
These are troubled times, it's true. Our ideas and preconceptions are constantly challenged; our prejudices are being dragged out into the unforgiving light of truth.