I just came across an email I wrote to my favorite professor at Wheaton College many years ago. It was in response to a class conversation we'd had on Emily Dickinson and her manipulation of seclusion for the purpose of social control. It sounds a little fancy there, but let me tell you, the email I wrote was fancier. I don't think I was trying to be smart, either, because I used a very personal example - which I will not elaborate here - regarding my understanding of Dickinson's motivations and the manner in which her behavior would translate into the world of modern technology. I was not trying to be smart, but from my present perch, it sounded smart. I'm wondering what happened to that deep-thinking academic. Wondering all the more how it is possible that such thought processes actually diminished during my post-graduate education rather than flourished. Oh, academia. What a fickle beast you are.
Dear Nathaniel, I am microwaving pie that Mom bought up in Oak Glen this week on her way home from the orthodontist. As I put it in the microwave, I was full of sadness that I was not in Oak Glen with her. Why did I not go? I was working. I want to see the trees turn. I want to wander slowly through autumnal gift shops. Under the water, you cannot sense the approach of the seasons. Even here it is difficult because, after all, it's California. But I can still sense it. After three seasons in Illinois and one in Scotland, it must be with me for good. Or at least for a while. Because I am all abuzz with eagerness for fall and winter, for turkeys and dried leaves and Santa. I should start cooking again this fall. Fall foods are my favorite. Baked squash dripping with melted butter and brown sugar, pumpkin soup... this year, if I have enough money, I will put together a holiday dinner for my friends. And we will drink Scandinavian mulled wine, which is the most wonderful thing I have e...
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