MOTHER and FATHER drove BOY up to Dartmouth today.   Felt peaceful, not torn,
arriving in the happy accidents of freshmen and their parents on the 1st day:
 what next?  where's this?  where's that?  [parents:] when should I leave?
is this really IT?

Yes, it really was IT, but before then we waited in various lines with BOY,
met other parents, including one of Cute Girl from Boise, with whom he had been
on prior hiking trip.  In course of conversation, BOY said to mother,
jocularly, "Well, I appear to be free of infectious diseases."  Cute Girl's Mother
was not reassured.

Dartmouth campus is organized around a village green, with commerce on one
side, ancient early 19th C meeting house type buildings, white painted brick on
one side (intimidating, like a girlfriend's mother who doesn't approve of
you);  giga-colonial George F. Baker library on another side (like Independence
Hall x3); and neat Beaux-Arts/colonial admin and dorm buildings on the fourth
side.  Campus was subject to scorched-earth Georgizing 1920-date, erasing (or
eviscerating) muscular Victorian campus architecture seen in old photos.
Campus took itself very seriously:  if IIT is very-serious international style,
Dartmouth is superserious colonial. Nice colonial, often scrumptiously executed,
but still very-serious.

BOY's dorm is named "French" far out on the banks of the Connecticut River.
Building is 1950's mottled brick with alternating windows, one of several in
basic Y-plan, 4 stories.   Buildings' basic form is modernist, but varied brick
coloring and undulating landscape makes them sort of Georgian.   Alvar Aalto
meets William Lawrence Bottomley.    Nice.  Homey.  BOY (hereafter called
YOUNG MAN) has somehow snagged supervisor's room, larger, view of river, quiet,
but  (absolute best best best bonus) can hear freight trains from across river.
 Now tortured by second thought, YOUNG MAN, after being discouraged by old
farts from rafting down Mississippi, then decided he wanted to hobo around on
trains.  MOTHER told him he would get one of his handsome feet cut off.  YM
stopped talking about it, now suspicion returns, maybe it just went underground,
probably he will jump a freight train for Creative Writing.  (Check: foot
amputation covered by health plan?)

Diversity report:  another YOUNG MAN, on floor above, is from Hanoi.

Bravery report:  three freshman reported existing nicknames:  Clucky,
T-Bomb, and Giggles.

Went over to White River Junction in search of used furniture (not antiques).
 Advised YOUNG MAN that critical ingredient in finding used furniture vendors
was locating town with abundant ground floor space going begging. Noted, in
this town, massage therapist occupying corner office on best intersection.
YOUNG MAN went with MOTHER to lampshade store.  YM reported that owner just
makes lampshades, and was completely happy with what he was doing, didn't care if
they bought anything or not.  Felt that YM had reached 5th circle of true
enlightenment but then also thought hopes of repayment for UK telephone bill
might be dimming just a few watts.

Also noted that Dartmouth does not charge for long distance telephones -
except overseas long distance.

YM did not return to campus with necessary comfortable chair, but, in flea
market,  found 1950's golf bag (battered tag:  "Registered with Schenectady Golf
Course") with matched Sam Snead clubs set in ancient, rickety pull cart. $5.
YM has vision, bought same (what about my change?) rolled to dorm past fancy
bmws, volvos, suvs, etc., will look pretty good going out on village green and
chipping balls through the buff frisbee guys.  (Sam Snead  = babe magnet?)

On way back to NYC, watched hang gliders catching the lift on the sunset face
of Mt. Tom (near Holyoke, from which Thomas Cole painted "The Ox-Bow") got
lost in a few delicious mid-Mass mill towns, including one where giant flag was
suspended over a shimmering reservoir, rippling slightly in the soft wind, as
was the water in which it was reflected.  FATHER and MOTHER had picnic on the
banks and thought about how fast two decades go by.

Near Danbury, a vision in the dark:  brown flash, impossibly fast through
impossibly fast triple-lane I-84, bushy tail, too big for a fox, a coyote, made
it across, grace a dieu.

Best to all,   Christopher

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