July 7, 2009
Paging Dr. Spooner
Two weeks after my Hawaiian adventure, I was finally ready to indulge in some sushi again. Erin visiting up for the weekend was another good excuse, to be sure, as was the fact that I’d just finished marching in the Williamstown 4th of July parade.
This was New England small-town in all its glory. Seven massive tractors, a pep band consisting of four of the North Adams Steeplecats on drums and another five trombones all played by eleven-year-old girls (no, not kidding,) along with what would seem to have been every fire truck in the township. This all with a strong dash of Williams College as evidenced by the presence of Venetian-mask-clad museum interns waving signs and throwing candy, all directly following the african drum group consisting entirely of (very sweet and sincere) middle-aged white people.
Beyond this, the start of summer has been nice. Much like the collegiate frustration of almost every semester having to pick up and move your life to a new domicile, the internship grind of some new, high-end job every summer had become taxing on the morale. Now my post at the museum is just another two-month internship, but after volunteering here for two years, I already know where the paper clips are. And on the first day I could just get down to writing – it was positively luxurious.
Of course I sorely miss living with Poker F, since as nice as all my other underclassmen friends are up here, one can’t extract much sincere sympathy from them while sitting in the coffee shop on a Sunday afternoon surfing job listings. But the weather is finally turning pretty (edit: or not – a thundershower just came through) and I’ve already scheduled my long weekend on Cape Cod. Because they don’t do fried clams in Waimea.
June 18, 2009
Clearly Going
In the long-running debate between the mountains and the shore, I think that Hawai’i, the biggest island of the archipelago, may provide the best resolution. We’re staying in Waikoloa, about thirty minutes north of Kona, at a condo overlooking a gorgeous stretch of beach. The complex has been heavily fortified by professional horticulturalists, so from within it appears to be a transplanted forest of palm trees and birds-of-paradise from the other side of the island. Of course the short rive back Serengeti to Queen Ka’ahumanu Highway reveals lays bare the charade as you enter sweeping fields of (relatively) fresh lava rock. Driving up to the summit of Mauna Kea the other day, however, we ran a long line through microclimates that alternately sent you to the arid midwest, full-bore rainforest, Williamstown-esque hills, and the moon.
But we made it up to the top and looked down upon the clouds, joined by a bus full of Japanese tourists in matching orange parkas. We were not a little jealous, as Dad (the resident geologist who had done this before with students) had underestimated the around-20º windchill. But the view was excellent, and we got to watch the Keck Observatories spin to life as the astronomers began their days tracking the skies.
On the way down the base camp had set up a mobile telescope that seemed only a little smaller than those found at the peak. They had it trained on Omega Centauri, and the view was pretty amazing – click through to get an idea. They had a more modest telescope set up nearby, though, that brought me back to the Bible of my youth.
This souvenir was, clearly, perfect. Probably.
It put me once again in mind of friends, as if they hadn’t been on my mind since commencement. On the plane ride form Denver to Kona, I sat next to a woman in her late 60s or early 70s. Her name was Bonnie. She had retired only a few years ago, and was now spending most of her time traveling around the world with old roommates from her small, liberal-arts college. She had been all over Europe and Asia, but this was her first trip to Hawaii – she was staying with a friend who moved there twenty years ago.
We joked during senior week that we were already looking forward to our days in retirement. My original plan had been to get a mountain house in the Berkshires and teach winter study courses. I’ve got to say, Williamstown now has a major competitor with my ranch house on the dry side of the island, halfway between the shore and the biggest mountain in the world.
May 4, 2009
“I’m so sick of hearing about Viagra”
Hey look, it turns out that academic peer review might be just as illogical as the regular business world. (The Art History Newsletter)
April 29, 2009
Cocktail Party Circuit
An article in the Times mentions Williams in talking about colleges going trayless in dining halls:
At Williams College in western Massachusetts, the Zilkha Center for Environmental Initiatives estimates that the college is saving 14,000 gallons of water annually since eliminating trays last spring at Driscoll, one of four campus dining halls, where 147,000 trays had been washed a year. The other dining halls are scheduled to go trayless in the fall.
The closing graph might contain one of the more effective arguments I’ve heard for convincing suspicious students:
Dr. Spina, of the college food service association, cited another benefit: “preparation for the cocktail-party circuit” by having to balance dishware and cutlery. “You eventually have to learn how to hold your hors d’oeuvre and cocktail in one hand while making animated conversation with the other,” he said, “so it’s a life lesson.”
April 29, 2009
Come on Oliver, let’s lounge!
So I haven’t posted in forever. It happens.
The Bahamas were just lovely, with plenty of lounging, reading, eating, lounging, swimming, lounging, judging, eating, lounging etc. going on.
Spring finally arrived in Williamstown in the form of summer, and at 91º this weekend it was time for a tasty Poker F picnic, a perfect end to a day watching Libby’s softball game and making iced tea. The end of the semester is becoming a bit of a scramble, hampered somewhat by my sudden contraction of the swine flu (not really) (but maybe) (whatever it’s gone now anyway). But I hand in my written thesis this Friday, just in time to start writing the formal presentation to be given in a little less than three weeks. Some departments let their students just chat a bit about their work…
March 8, 2009
A Terrible Ordeal
A man who knows not how to write may think this no great feat. But only try to do it yourself and you shall learn how arduous is the writer’s task. It dims your eyes, makes your back ache, and knits your chest and belly together – it is a terrible ordeal for the whole body. So, gentle reader, turn these pages carefully and keep your fingers far from the text. For just as hail plays havoc with the fruits of spring, so a careless reader is a bane to books and writing.
-Prior Petrus in Silos Beatus, early 11th century
