My trip to Amsterdam was delayed due to the poor weather in Philadelphia. My daughter and I are supposed to leave on Thursday now, for a really fast trip. I spent the suddenly free afternoon reading Notes Home From a Prodigal Son, (author??) and a few more sections of Eagleton. I wish I had more to offer on the ongoing Theory discussion, but I’m still catching up with my theoretical knowledge. I also was reading the article Doug posted from Peter Kalkavage titled, “Four Essays on Writing Sentences.” Kalkavage is (was?) a professor at St. John’s College in Annapolis, MD., a small liberal arts college directly across the street from the Naval Academy, but light years away in terms of curriculum. The “Johnnies” and the Midshipmen were the polar opposites of the academic universe, one studying the “Great Books” with no tests or grades, the other (me) studying naval sciences, electrical engineering and four semesters of calculus (and I was a history major!) with rigid academic standards…”2.0 and go”‘ was our motto, but sadly many of my friends failed to meet that meager standard. I wonder if two more different schools exist in such geographic proximity. But the Johnnies and the Mids gathered each spring for the annual croquet match. Both schools organized a team of elegantly dressed athletes and did battle on the lawns of alternating campuses. The Johnnies were distinguished by an abundance of piercings and facial hair, and the mids, well, were distinguished by the opposite. (I never played, though I once received a croquet set for Christmas from my godparents.) I remember thinking that if I could live another life, I would go back to Annapolis, but go to St. John’s College in my next life. I think VCFA might be close second, minus the croquet match, so this essay really closed the circle of my karmic desires. Four years at USNA = 1 English lit course. My hours not learning electrical engineering could have been better spent reading the canon (if one exists) of Western Lit. Alas, I’m now victim to The Shredder, and all my weaknesses are exposed. My only, and fleeting, hope for redemption lies in the distant possibility of a faculty vs. student croquet match this summer. But damn it, I’m going to Slovenia! Maybe next winter.