Aunt Elsie put many things into
perspective with her characteristic common sense. Study the things that interest you the
most. It’s the one time in life when
you’re fully free to satisfy your curiosity.
But take some practical courses. (I took a single course in computers,
and turned in it into a career.) Weigh
consequences carefully. And then, in accordance with your feelings, make those
choices. Find your dream early—and go
for it. Be flexible, but also be focused
and strategic, realizing that higher education isn’t a refuge from life but a
preparation for it.
“If your
inclination and ambition seems to direct you to some phase of college
education—either teaching or research—wouldn’t it be wise to get some goal into
clear focus now and take the steps that lead in that direction? With the increase in knowledge, the study and
discipline necessary to master and achieve in some aspect of it is a matter
requiring years of work and study. We
all have many interests—music, religion, art, etc. but to spend years in one of
those area if we intend to make some other field our life’s work would seem to
be questionable indeed. When we’re
young—time ahead seems limitless. But
all too soon we become aware of what a brief span even a lifetime encompasses.
Some lucky persons seem to be born with a clear sense of direction knowing when
they tumble out of the cradle that their life is to be one of music or medicine
or what-have-you. But for others finding
a life’s work that is productive and satisfying is difficult and some never
find it.
“It’s difficult
to know which moves enhance ones preparation and which ones will handicap one’s
preparation,” she writes. “Society
doesn’t provide jobs for people who are young, so it’s difficult to stay out of
school until one has more experience with various vocations. So one goes to college,
hoping that a good decision will be made. Usually experience will
determine where ones initial hunches are correct. Trial and error in college usually confirms
these hunches. The only rule that I have
ever found that made sense was to decide to act on deep, inner
motivations. I would say, ’If I don’t go
to college, I will someday regret this advance of education.’ So I would go to college to avoid this
possible regret. Thus, one goes into the
unknown because one does not have another choice. We must act on these impulses and hunches, or
life will become a series of frustrations.
Therefore, if one goes to college and fails, one does not live with
regret because he tried this route. So,
follow the dreams in your mind, and like William James, the philosopher, always
said, ‘If one acts, one may win or lose, but one must engage in the battle.’
“I know of
parents who’ve been overly insistent that their children take up a certain line
of work or a certain profession – or that a certain marriage is desirable. And their weak offspring have gone along with
tragic results. Now they might have made
equally disastrous choices themselves but they would have been spared the
bitterness they later felt toward their parents. I’ve always been grateful to
my mother for the freedom she gave me to make my own decisions—even when I know
she suffered because she thought they were the wrong decisions. I suffered too because I hated to hurt
her. I never regretted the decisions I
made. But I’ve regretted not having been
more tactful and considerate of her feelings and point of view, especially
during my ‘sophomoric’ period.
“Certainly, no
one can make decisions for another person.
All we can do is share what we think or have learned by experience or
observation. And no one should follow
the advice of others unless it finds a deep and responsive chord of agreement
within one’s own mind and heart.
“’To thine own self be true, and it must follow as the night the
day that thou canst not be false to any man.’
“An acorn
doesn’t chose to be an oak tree. It has no special revelation of what it can
and should be. It becomes what it is its
nature to be and what its environment permits it to become. Man is more than a nut, to be sure, but some
of the same laws of being and becoming hold true for him, as well. Intelligence was doubtlessly given to man to
use—and God should not be expected to do for man what he is capable of doing
for himself. ‘Know thyself’
is difficult but very sound advice. To
trust one’s inner vision is sometimes more difficult than trusting the judgment
of others—but I think it is a wiser course to follow.
“I’m writing
some of these things, Philip, because I know that if I had gone to Bible school
instead of college, it would have been a mistake for me—because I would have
been unduly influenced by others rather than by my own needs and inclination. This is not to say that it would also be a
mistake for you, of course. But I think
the possibility should at least be brought to your attention. Not all opportunities that are open to us are
necessarily God-given.
“To me, the
search for truth in this marvelous universe is in the truest sense a religious
quest, whether it be the field of medicine, physics,
human relationships, or a better understanding of human personality. All of these searches can be as productive as
Bible study.
“So from my
point of view it seems fortunate that there is agreement before you start your
college work at
Through the Ivyland and
Here is some advice Uncle Ray offered
about graduate school studies: “The
first one, easily apparent in the twenty-twenty hindsight of the old timer but
not all that apparent to those contemplating graduate work, is to make sure
that you have a sound mastery of the techniques of study. Nearly everything about graduate work has
changed with the passing years but one condition remains: graduate work is (and
no pun intended) many degrees more difficult than anything in college at the
undergraduate level.
“Second, from what I learn many of the
requirements of my day have been dropped but one procedure is still as the core
of the graduate program—the central role of the faculty advisor. As you know, this is the unfortunate
individual who is assigned to supervise your program, and the easiest thing in
the world is to consider him the enemy.
He often acts the part, and in my case I had this attitude for several
months. My attitude changed one day at
one of our scheduled meetings. I had
submitted a section of a preliminary draft of my dissertation and he had gone
over it before the meeting. He greeted
me with my paper spread out over my desk and with much shaking of his head and
with these words: “Couldn’t you translate this academese
into just plain English that I could understand? Just tell me in simple words what you have in
mind here.” I did the best I could and
he replied: “Now that’s beautiful. I
understand it. Moreover it makes
sense. Now go home and write it just as
you have told it to me.” He picked up
the sheets of my first draft and handed them to me, saying, “And throw these away.”
When I submitted my revision, he smiled, and we settled down to being
co-conspirators in the difficult task of trying to get some letters after my
name.”
“There is another
pretty general requirement in all general programs: there is an inordinate
amount of writing to be done. On this
you will have no difficulty. I’ve read
all your clippings you’ve sent and find them well done indeed. It is fortune to be able to do writing for
publication why studying writing at college.”
Often,
communication between two people is akin to two TVs facing each other—a lot of
noise but no reflection or engagement.
My earliest letters go back to the age of ten. And yet, I never felt Elsie was writing down
to me. Her letters were positive,
wide-ranging, and a delight to read. I
thought for a while that I was Elsie’s pet pen pal. Only years later did I learn she had similar
ties to nephews and nieces around the country, conducted correspondence with
friends all over the world and, incredibly, in the last 12 years of her life
taught English to people from 22 countries from around the world.
In November
1979, I was distressed to learn that she was dying. Elsie wrote that “the prospect of death does
not distress me, but the prospect of becoming a helpless invalid does. Therefore, should this rare cancer of mine
speed up the inevitable a bit, I would think I’d be grateful. If you find this hard to accept, it may be
because you don’t have to face the alternatives.” Two months later on
Having friends
in medical school and knowing of the disrespect that students sometimes show to
donated bodies, I tried to discourage my aunt from donating her body. She acknowledged the possibility, but
insisted the good to future students outweighed the bad behavior of other
students, cheerfully endorsing this essay from Author Unknown:
“At a certain moment, a doctor will determine that my brain
has ceased to function and that, for all intents and purposes, my life has
stopped. When this happens, do not
attempt to instill artificial life into my body by use of a machine. And don’t call this my ‘deathbed’. Call it my ‘bed of life,’ and let my body be
taken from it to help other lead fuller lives.
“Give my sight to a man who has never
seen a sunrise, a baby’s face or love in the eyes of a woman. Give me heart to a person whose own heart has
caused nothing but endless days of pain.
Give my blood to the teenager who has been pulled from the wreckage of
his car so that he might live to see his grandchildren play. Explore every corner of my brain. Take my cells, if necessary, and let them
grow so that someday a speechless boy will shout at the crack of a bat and a
deaf girl will hear the sound of rain against the window. Burn what is left of me and scatter the ashes
to the winds to help the flowers grow.
“If you must bury anything, let it be
my faults, my weaknesses, and all prejudice against my fellow man. Give my soul to God. If by chance you wish to remember me, do it
with a kind deed or word to someone who needs you. If you do all I have asked, I will live
forever.”
My mother read
a tribute I wrote for Aunt Elsie. “Over
the years I’ve saved some of her letters,” I wrote at the time. ” ‘This
morning’s mail brought the enclosed letter from Lillian about Uncle Otto’s
death in Ipswich … another link broken in the family circle,’ Aunt Elsie wrote
me several years before her death. ‘As
we grow older, I think we accept death more—not only because it’s inevitable
but also because limitations to a life span become more acceptable. But that doesn’t diminish the deep sadness
and sense of loss when someone who has been a part of one’s life for as long as
one remembers anything at all—suddenly is no more.’ Eased by a flood of happy memories—hiking
through the Grand Tetons, boating down the