I must stop reading novels of yearning. Unintentionally, I read The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake followed by The Irresistible Henry House. Not recommended in that order, my friends!
Anyway, the clarifying continues. I'm trying to slowly go through things I no longer need, right? What to do with paper I've painstakingly studied? There is no need to save it all, and I remember (with awe) the days when my classmates tossed stacks and stacks of notes. I couldn't (can't) do it so lightheartedly. Today, I picked up a single notebook. Every piece of information in that notebook can be found in countless textbooks and other notebooks. It was one I studied with, rewriting notes, drawing pictures, etc. I. do. not. need. it. One of many, probably. So, I snapped a photo for the memory of the process of memorizing (ironic), and tossed it into the recycling bin. (Not before looking through each page, certain that those equations and charts and drawings were familiar enough that I really really didn't need it any longer).
Maybe he worked for the event planning department. Maybe he was in charge of the golf cart fleet. Perhaps he volunteered for the position when he heard what it would entail. Either way, it led up to the afternoon when he would be in charge of driving Hugh Downs around a sunny college campus in a little golf cart. Mr. Downs had a speaking arrangement at a local lecture hall, and though his voice (his voice!) is still self-assured and thoughtful, walking appears less effortless. Behind the wheel, the student employee (pale, thin, wearing the university colors) grinned from one ear to the other as he escorted the legend. Those who watched, as the broadcaster carefully stepped down from the shining cart, also grinned, partly because they were glad the driver realized what an honor his job was, but also because how often does Hugh Downs step down from a golf cart in front of you, only to make you sigh thirty minutes later as he tells a story to a crowd?