Page 264 - WhyAsInY

Why (as in yaverbaum)
drove me completely crazy (once I had dealt with my shock and stifled my laughter). I found it distracting as hell and actually impolite, but it was the culture, so I went with it. Perhaps, however, I went with it a bit too far. To register my feelings about the practice, and being unable to wield knitting needles, I bought myself some glue and a model airplane kit, which, entirely as a bit, I unwrapped and started to assemble on a day when the subject might well have been “A Tragic Sense of Life,” an Unamuno essay that I had not read.
Limiting my course load permitted me to concentrate on my thesis, for which I believe I received twelve credits: four in the fall and eight in the spring. (I believe that I only had to carry as few as fourteen credits per semester, so, assuming that my thesis work was easy, the last year would be easy as well.)
In retrospect, I’m sorry that I failed to take full advantage of the courses that were offered at Amherst. Amherst’s Economics Depart- ment, of which a contemporary, Nobel Laureate Joseph Stiglitz, is a product, was known to be first-rate, and there were a number of its offerings that I wish I had taken the time (and considerable effort) for. The course outside of Economics that I would like to have taken was Fine Arts, and not because of its obvious—but not particularly relevant or appropriate—nickname. Another course that I didn’t take but did like the nickname of was Marriage and the Family, to which guys would bring dates. It was generally referred to as “Holes and Poles.”
My thesis work was easy because my thesis advisor, Professor Pem- berton, did not exactly push me for interim output, such as outlines or early delivery of draft chapters. It was also easy, I guess, because in the fall semester, I just didn’t do very much other than pick the topic, which grew out of my Anselm paper, start the process of locating suitable source material, and receive four credits for my efforts. Much as I had learned from taking a year off, I had not exactly gotten rid of my ability to procrastinate and then, hopefully, to write fluently and quickly. The days therefore went by, and I collected a vast number of index cards with quotes and references, but I produced nothing in writing. My fan- tasy was to take a motel room for a few days (during senior year I once
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