Sixty years ago, I had to explain to the University of Michigan why I wanted to attend its School of Liberal Arts. Truth be told, I didn’t have a clue.
I claimed it would “broaden my horizons,” which seemed to cover a lot of territory but clarified nothing. I knew how to diagram a sentence, play field hockey, rake in a few pins from Quill & Scroll, and be a summer camp counselor. The only thing I was sure of was that my father, who thought Herbert Hoover the greatest president we ever had, was dead wrong.
It was pretty clear, even to a teenager with respectable SAT scores, that I was equipped to do nothing. I clearly should have read “Ivanhoe” instead of using Cliff Notes. But by the time you put your butt in a chair to write the definitive essay on “Why I Want to Go to College,” it is too damn late. You are pretty clearly not going to sing like Beverly Sills, dance like Agnes DeMille, find a cure for polio like Jonas Salk, or explain the universe like Carl Sagan.
Best you hibernate on some campus and think about how to spend the next four score years and 10, remembering that even if you bus tables for two meals a day, this is costing your parents a bloody fortune.
The University of Michigan accepted me on the condition that I not take math, confident that I singlehandedly could lower the institution’s ranking in mathematics.
I flunked out of zoology instead.
During the 1950s, I attended five colleges and entertained three majors without committing to a focus, a direction or a profession. In those days, you could sell the idea of wanting to be “well rounded,” which was equally meaningless and costly.
Today, I am a granny. The world is broke and needs fixing. I want you should go to college so you can figure out how to do the job. College makes you think. It is a Think Tank, preferably neither liberal nor conservative, where you can relish the luxury of being surrounded by libraries, teachers, ideas and peers. Use the time, as Plato must have said, to figure out which horse you want to ride.
Make it your business to be informed. Think about what’s happening in your life, neighborhood, and world. Have the courage to make value judgments.
Rub elbows with the educated and affluent as well as the less fortunate. Always side with the latter.
Learn who has spoken truth to power. Examine the price they paid.
Know when to take to the streets and, as Molly Ivins advised, bang on pots and pans. Then do it.
Know what is spin. Eschew it.
Recognize zealots, political hacks, and dumb hangers-on. Walk away.
Respect the difference between church and state. Be vigilant about keeping them separate.
Know what’s in the Geneva Convention and the American Constitution. Fight to preserve both.
Never follow orders blindly. Think.
Don’t vent or whine. Stay away from people who do.
Read Kierkgaard. In fact, read everything you can put your hands on.
Distinguish right from wrong and always fight arrogance and stupidity.
Study history, politics and religion.
Pick your fights and win them.
Recognize the difference between dithering and doing.
Question authority and demand answers.
Never smoke, never work for Halliburton, and never vote Republican.
Read a good newspaper.
Volunteer for a good cause.
Fill your life with good people, and get out of bed every morning eager to do something worth doing. In between, have fun, laugh lots and, no matter where you land, never forget to write home.
Sureva Towler lives in Steamboat Springs, where she collects stories about the changing West.
