I came prepared to hate Connecticut College: this was a have-to visit. My mother-in-law graduated from Connecticut College sixty years ago and has maintained a strong alum association with the school, and it was not unreasonable for her to want Planet to visit the school while it would have been unreasonable for us to refuse. Plus there's that camel thing.
That's a poncho they had ready for visitors (there were at least 100 of us) who weren't ready for the downpours, and despite all my preconceptions and doubts plus an hour-plus moving in and out of buildings and through a steady cold downpour, if I didn't love the place, I didn't hate it. I liked it better than Planet and Earthgirl.
The minuses: students seem happily, even strangely campus-bound. The campus is a mile up the hill north of New London, and both the tour guide and the admissions officer talked of the self-contained community of the campus - the social scene is on the campus, with multiple student orgs and clubs offering multiple options on every night. There was also NO mention of community service, and a whiter campus I haven't seen. Plus there's the price tag: $51K a year.
The pluses: Free music lessons all four years by tenured professors (Planet's a pianist). Guaranteed single dorm sophomore through senior year. Also, during the summer between junior and senior years each student is guaranteed a paid internship (through Connecticut Colleges network of powerful alums and contributors) paying a minimum of $3K in a student's particular interest as a possible seed for employment upon graduation. If the only internship in a student's field is non-paying, Connecticut pays the student the $3K. All three might help explain the exorbitant tuition.
We're in Worcester as I type this and what a freaking hole. We drove and found Clark and, while the campus itself is charming, it's in the middle of a freaking hole. We have the time tomorrow to either visit Clark or go back to Wesleyan (which made a far better impression on Planet and Earthgirl than me) and get the full info session from a dean (this past Sunday we only got the tour, not the spiel).
It's entirely Planet's call, though when asked my opinion by Planet, I suggested going back to Wesleyan. I said, if you're genuinely excited and interested in Wesleyan we need to ask questions only an admissions dean can answer, plus since when, I asked her, did you want to go to school in a city, and if you want to go to school in a city, do you really want that city - which could be New York or Boston or Chicago - to be Worcester Massachusetts?
- An open letter to his fellow Liberals. I'm going to write about his when I get home unless I don't, but I've been canarying about America's ATVed army of crackers since long before this shetty bleg made We Are the Enemy a category on Day One, but even I can't help wonder why the FBI made these arrests this week. Because it was deemed bad politically to do it while HCR was being fought? Because it's deemed good politics now HCR was won?
- American crazy.
- Defining extremism down.
- American jeremiad.
- Inside the salt pit.
- Obama's not your friend.
- Suddenly a political mastermind?
- Singing Frumbaya.
- Norpod still a chancre of ineffectual evil.
- A moveable sandwich.
- No one saw this coming.
- Montag killed the Carnival of Liberals! But I helped!
- Maryland, fuck yeah.
- Dimitar Berbatov is.... The Continental.
- A bad start for DCU gets worse.
Jame TateI was outside St. Cecelia's Rectory
smoking a cigarette when a goat appeared beside me.
It was mostly black and white, with a little reddish
brown here and there. When I started to walk away,
it followed. I was amused and delighted, but wondered
what the laws were on this kind of thing. There's
a leash law for dogs, but what about goats? People
smiled at me and admired the goat. "It's not my goat,"
I explained. "It's the town's goat. I'm just taking
my turn caring for it." "I didn't know we had a goat,"
one of them said. "I wonder when my turn is." "Soon,"
I said. "Be patient. Your time is coming." The goat
stayed by my side. It stopped when I stopped. It looked
up at me and I stared into its eyes. I felt he knew
everything essential about me. We walked on. A police-
man on his beat looked us over. "That's a mighty
fine goat you got there," he said, stopping to admire.
"It's the town's goat," I said. "His family goes back
three-hundred years with us," I said, "from the beginning."
The officer leaned forward to touch him, then stopped
and looked up at me. "Mind if I pat him?" he asked.
"Touching this goat will change your life," I said.
"It's your decision." He thought real hard for a minute,
and then stood up and said, "What's his name?" "He's
called the Prince of Peace," I said. "God! This town
is like a fairy tale. Everywhere you turn there's mystery
and wonder. And I'm just a child playing cops and robbers
forever. Please forgive me if I cry." "We forgive you,
Officer," I said. "And we understand why you, more than
anybody, should never touch the Prince." The goat and
I walked on. It was getting dark and we were beginning
to wonder where we would spend the night.
Woke up with this in my head, be in yours: