The Great University Hunt, Part I

If you scroll up a bit you'll see my at the time list of possilbe graduate programs. Well, scratch that becuase I narrowed it down to three, two of which aren't on there. I was in Duluth today checking out the graduate English program at UMD, and I was impressed. The trip wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be; almost 150 miles, barely enough time for my ass to get sore. And before I knew it I was doing 75 down a narrow two lane highway coming over the last hill before the great lake spilled out all around me like someone had knocked over a jar of paint, staining the landscape. It is awe-inspiring, that's for sure, but for me the great Northwoods are about that, the woods. I love trees, and seeing those old-growth groves stretch back from the highway for miles was enough to make me daydream in the hum of my car's engine about a time when this country was an unbroken forest from coast to coast. A time when a squirrel could go from Boston to Portland without touching the ground. Blasting down a narrow highway drawing up quickly on semis, I was quickly snapped back to reality by the impulse of self-preservation, if not for the roadsign that signaled my exit.
I met with the head of the English Department there, and she answered my questions and introduced me to some of the current teaching assistants, a position I hope to hold next year. One of the girls (they were all female) talked at me for a while about the finer points of her particular program, but instead of listening I found myself thinking about her shining red hair, about her tight green pants, and about all those brains in her cute little head, and before I could ask any questions it was time to go sit in on a class. I had my copy of Song of Solomon with me (which I read in time for class) and was even able to get in on the discussion for the day; but I still couldn't shake the image of that firey tangle of red curls from my head. It didn't help that she was sitting so I could just see her profile thrown against the light coming in through the windows, it didn't help that she asked some really intelligent questions in class, and it certainly didn't help that she offered to walk me back to my car after class.
Anyway, it was a good day overall. I made myself known to the English Department (the head lady even said she "really wanted me to come to UMD"), I got the email address of the cutest girl in class, and I even stopped in to the Chinese Dragon in downtown Duluth for some really good Seasame Chicken and Wontons.
I was walking down the street after lunch to start the long (but not that long) trip home, my head in the clouds about the newfound "direction" my life had, when a bum-looking guy came up to me on the street. But instead of shaking me down for change, he said "I need bus fare. Sell you two smokes for a quarter," opening a pack of camel menthol lights. I took the smokes and pressed a quarter into his hand, and we walked apart. His downtrodden face, his torn clothes, and his deep, husky voice lingered in my mind as I light that cigarette and sucked in a painful breath of minty smoke, coughing instantly from its harshness. I don't know why he asked me to buy his cigs from him. Maybe he actually needed one more quarter for a busride, maybe he just hated the menthol flavor like I quickly grew to. But as I looked up at the top of the hill, at the University where I would devote two more years of my life to reading and writing, protected from the world outside, I realized that the bum looking dude gave me those cigarettes to remind me that not everyone is lucky enough to live like me. As I sucked in, I felt what he goes through each and every day just to make his bus fare. I tasted his life and it was harsh.
Here's to Prolonging the Magic...