It was a field of such sprawling vastness that were it not in such a benevolent location, it might have been nervewracking to look at from the campus that looked over it, atop the kind of hill that thrillseekers flock to with sleds (or cafeteria trays or dorm room mattresses) at the first sign of accumulated snow. Late on Saturday night we didn't look out at it, we walked to the center of it and lay down in the dew-slathered grass. Music from the '06 tent trickled through the air. We were channeling recollections of what it once felt like to take this kind of moment very seriously, and also in hindsight we were channeling the film Dazed and Confused.
I spent some time during my stay making mental comparisons between the elite New England liberal arts school and my own alma mater, the sprawling Midwestern Big Ten Indiana University.
Aesthetically, by the way, favor lies marginally with IU. In fact, in terms of pure classic collegiate atmosphere, nothing in New England surpasses IU. IU is college in a bottle. Not elite college in a bottle, but classic all-American keg-party co-ed sun-kissed youth best-four-years-of-your-life college in a bottle.
You can't beat this kind of college with high SAT scores and prep school and a summer spent abroad studying fish bacteria. You can achieve it only via a background filled with comfort and barbecues and neighbors who throw you graduation parties and for whom you have babysat since you were 14; dads with solid careers and moms who have them only if they so choose. A social contract that life will treat you well as long as you do as it suggests and don't think too hard about it.
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