Look at all the accomplished among us
Once or twice a year, my old school gets in touch. Always good to hear from the place, even if their motives are suspect. You see, the school lusts after my wealth.
When I was very young (in college terms), an elder mentor explained that alumni were much like aphids: something for the institution to milk for the rest of their lives, for drops of money. We are not all created equal when it comes to financial success, and my yearly gift pales in comparison to that offered by others.
Which brings me to the second part of this exercise. The preferred method on contact is via a very polished and colourful magazine, filled with photos of OUR rich and famous. Now, I have a history with the rag; for a number of years, I provided photos, clipped newspapers and delivered the (then weekly) news to all corners of the campus. Perhaps you recall those wooden racks that seemed to go from “full of news” to “full of chocolate bar wrappers”. In any case, the content had one goal. Let all who happened across a copy know that the school was doing fabulously. A journal article published here; a new degree conferred there; some births marriages and deaths, in keeping with the community identity. Well, rest assured that a half century has changed nothing. This is the Island, so even the names remain familiar.
I now know that a gift of a million dollars (to endow whatever) is just the new normal. And because the school has grown, put down “suckers” in new fields abroad, added to the shopping list of available degrees… it’s still the same school. Well, except for the logo. That, still, is a burr against my butt.
