In the Fall of 1969, I arrived in Baltimore as a freshman at Johns Hopkins. I remember thinking, as my parents began the drive back home to Upstate New York, that that was the day my life was really beginning.
In so many ways, that turned out to be true, but that's beside the point.
Thinking about the very-different experience that this year's incoming freshmen/freshwomen will be having, I remember this true story from the Old Days.
A bunch of us in our dorm were required to take the basic History survey, the purpose of which, I understand in retrospect, was to not teach us about 18th Century France, but to make us understand the basic mechanics of academic research, analysis, and argument.
It was a very large class, in one of the very large lecture halls. A couple of sessions in, the professor (who we understood to be a noted world authority on Cardinal Richelieu), announced to everyone that he'd be available to visit the dorms, if any of us wanted to just chat with him in person. Amazingly enough, someone in our group took him up on that offer, and we set a time and date.
Sure enough, he spent an evening in our humble dorm room (Clark House, at the end of the 2nd floor hall, if you must know). As I recall, the French Revolution didn't come up much - mostly we talked about Vietnam. I remember thinking how cool it was that this famous, notable guy would take the trouble to engage with this group of very raw, no-nothing, wise-guys.
This interaction is what this year's students will be missing, and it's sad. That's all I planned to say, however...
As this memory floated up out of the mists of Time, I googled the prof, Dr. Orest Ranum, and it appears he is still alive, at 87. Not only that, but I was totally unaware, all these years, of what had happened to him at Columbia the prior year. NPR story from 2010
This makes his sympathies with our Vietnam Dread even more poignant. Our class was his first year at Hopkins, after that nastiness and loss at Columbia.
Now, you may ask, how is it possible that, after over 50 years, I was able to effortlessly call up his name (spelled correctly). It's because his name is forever associated, in my mind, with a proposed prank call from someone in my group.
In a joke that I hesitate to repeat, that would take a monumental leap to even begin to approach the level of 'sophomoric', someone suggested calling his wife, to ask if she was 'under Orest'.
There's a reason there is an entire category of nonsense called 'College humor'. Can it survive COVID? Should it?
