Higher temperature. But somehow more clement in the park for constitutional. Nagged by wondering where the “Pen Addict” podcast is going now that it has dropped out of sight.
When I went through high school in the Sixties, there wasn’t much writing in ink. We, or, at least, I, used a ring notebook with punched paper. I wrote mostly with a mechanical pencil that used large leads, about 2 mm or so. I am sure there were some inked essays and such but my memory of them is fuzzy, probably due to a fundamental dislike of essays. I dislike to read them – in the mode – and hate to write them. Probably because no one ever got across to me what they were supposed to do.
So all complacent in this, I went off to college. In reptrospect the whole thing of paper and writing was a vacuum. My parents didn’t think of it, and I didn’t think of it. And somehow the pundits who intruded with off-to-college advice missed it. Or maybe they told my parents that it would wait for classes to start and they didn’t tell me. Or I was oblivious.
Anyway, I got to college a few days before classes started. Part of freshman “orientation”. I was put in the nerd dorm. To this day I am unsure of whether that was to protect us from the bogs and extros, or them from us. Not that all of us were intros. I discovered early on that there were nerd extros and even nerd jocks. But they were few.
My roommate was a modal intro nerd. He was one of those transparent people who majored in pre-something in those days. Sometimes it seemed like half the male student body was majoring in pre-medicine or pre-law or both. And almost none of them were much more than nebbishes worried more about grades than learning. I honestly do not know what happened to this guy. He was a passing blip – thankfully. If he made a physician, which I doubt, I feel sorry for the profession and patients.
But he did perform one mitzvah. He lectured me on note taking. I did not take many notes in high schule. Mostly just assignment notes: lists of problem numbers, dates, that sort of thing. My memory and the text book were more than adequate. So I came to college as a notes neub.
Anyway, this fellow rather lecturing to a neub told me to go to the college book store and purchase a notebook for each subject and a BIC pen. I was told to buy textbooks at a private bookstore but evidently the notebooks were better at the college bookstore. My education had already begun; I was learning how to be a discerning consumer.
The notebooks were quite nice. They were spiral bound, heavy cardboard covers, and real 8.5×11 inch^2 heavy paper with real “college” ruling – lines so close together I often skipped. And I went off to class so equipped.