Expunging Wilson

I believe that the reaction of Princeton's president in a recent confrontation with his students was exceedingly weak and contributes nothing to the attainment of a positive outcome.

The demand that President Wilson (Princeton president, US president) be eradicated from all things Princeton is one of the dumbest, most narcissistic, puling behaviors I can imagine.  Then President Eisgruber said their demands would be considered.¹

These so-called students who are incapable, apparently, of any degree of rational thought cannot grasp the concept that they are privileged far above  all but an infinitesimally small percentage of the human race.  How many people are admitted to Princeton?  How many would like to be?²

The correct response, and I make no apology for this, yet I offer it free to Princeton administrators and the Board, is this:  We are a university, an institution of higher learning.  Your mother may possibly be the only entity in the world who always takes care not to "hurt your feelings."  If you want that kind of consideration, go home to your mother and leave your space here for someone who might appreciate a world-class education, which includes study of and acceptance of historical fact."

Princeton serves slightly more than eight thousand students.  It accepts fewer than 7.5 per cent of applicants.

¹"We appreciate the willingness of the students to work with us to find a way forward for them, for us and for our community," said university President Christopher Eisgruber. "We were able to assure them that their concerns would be raised and considered through appropriate processes."

²For the academic year 2014-2015 of 26,641 applicants for admission to the freshman class, 1983 were admitted.

Bus Driver

Long before I decided to be a teacher, I was a school bus driver.  No, really.  I was in my junior year at Seattle Pacific College.  A parochial school about a mile up the hill needed a bus driver.  I got the job.  What did I know?

The logistics worked quite well, even though I probably had no idea what "logistics" were.  I lived in a men's dorm about two city blocks from Royal Brougham Pavilion, a new athletic/classroom facility on the corner of Nickerson and Third Avenue West.  The alleyway between this building and the ship canal led to access of a vacant area to the north of the pavilion which was large enough to accommodate a parked school bus, and the generous powers-that-be allowed me to lodge my vehicle there when it was not in use. 

My class schedule was such that I could walk the two blocks to my bus, run my route which extended to Lake City and ultimately East 135th Street, then back to drop the kiddos off at their school on Queen Anne Hill, back to my parking spot, walk to class.  Be back at the parochial school at 2:45.  Sweet.

Big deal.  Yes, it is a big deal.  As a third-year college student trying to make my way in academe, I needed the money.  And that was to become an interesting issue.

The vehicle itself was a 1933 White School Bus, which may seem to be quite ancient looking through the lens of time, more than sixty years past.  But at the time, it was only twenty years old. And had had twenty years of hard use.  In terms of longevity, the bus had seniority on its driver. Another potentially interesting issue.

Among the children on my route was the son of the trustee who hired me and held the purse-strings.  This youngster was on the cusp of adolescence and deep into Knowitall Pond.  Interesting issue.

I thought to tell the entire tale in a matter of three or four hundred words, and yet I note that, as I approach that marker, I have told nothing of the tale, have merely set the backdrop.  Perhaps we can get some actors on the stage another day.  Say, curtain time: next Wednesday.

Congratulations, Elizabeth

Today the Granddaughter takes the degrees Bachelor of Arts in Creative Writing and Bachelor of Arts in History from Indiana University. I wrote a letter to her.

Dear Elizabeth,

I well remember the night you joined us in the open air of this world.  Your Grandmother and I were at the hospital, eagerly anticipating your arrival.  Our task seemed limited to holding your Daddy’s hand, for there was nothing for us to do but wait.  But the anxiety was soon replaced by excitement as the announcement was made that you were the new granddaughter in our lives.

Grandma was so enamored of you, as she was of all her granddaughters.  The few times you visited in our home while Mommy and Daddy had an evening out were pleasures that Grandma cherished.  We can only imagine the pride she would feel if she could see you now!  I have my own feelings of pride, for, even though we have not been close during your formative years, I have been aware of your progress.  I know that your parents’ happiness is in large measure derived from the very existence of you.  I have every confidence that while you have given them much joy to this point in your life, you will continue to make them proud, and happy, and they will continue to brag on their first-born.

You have always been an avid reader and a wonderful story-teller.  I recall vividly listening to your tales during your preschool years.  I can still picture you as you illustrated your story with hand gestures, enthusiastically engaging your auditors with words and action!  You have traveled a long road since the day I visited you in Mrs. Hageboeck’s classroom.   Now you are equipped to be a professional writer, a teller of tales who may, if you so choose, publish your creations far and wide.  You have chosen to obtain the education and skill set requisite to such a career, and Indiana University has endorsed you for the activities by certifying you for the degrees you obtain today.  Well done, Young Lady.

Like you, I have been a life-long reader, and thus I have great respect for those who write.  I am conveying to you a little volume, A Wonder Book for Boys and Girls, by Nathaniel Hawthorne,  which I believe rightly should be yours. I read this again just recently and find it a charming retelling of some very old tales.   I am respecting your request to abstain from the giving of gifts on this occasion, but this particular book has a history.  If you read the inscription on the fly-leaf, you will understand that I did not find this item in a used book store, but rather that it has been in your family for more than a century.  You might take this as a reminder of your origins and heritage.  Family is of critical importance in our lives.  I am not suggesting that you must go out and do a bunch of genealogical research.  I am suggesting that knowing where we came from serves as light to shine on the pathways we follow.

Finally, the advice that you would expect to get from a “seasoned” old man.  If any of this should seem platitudinous, forget not that just because something is a platitude it is not necessarily wrong.  I believe that it is important to recall daily that we, as the cap sheaf of God’s creation, are much more than a body and an intellect.  We are spiritual beings.  The temptation to please ourselves in the physical and intellectual realms while neglecting our spiritual being is strong.  You will be pulled from all directions, the offer of fame, and perhaps riches, dangling before you.  Acquisition of fame and wealth is not evil.  But the neglect of one’s relationship with God is.  So prioritize.  Keep foremost in your life those things that are most important.  I pray that I, and that you as well, will be able to say at the end of the course, as St. Paul did, “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.”

Please keep us up to date on your activities, from time to time.

Keep the faith.

Now, go celebrate.  

We love you.

Grandpa Dave