I took a different path from my car to the journalism department at Wayne State yesterday, and came across this monument:
Maybe my friend Michael, who once chaired the school’s Board of Governors, can explain why Alexander, and why there, but my guess is, there’s no particular story, just a bit of Greco-American pride. Metro Detroit is such a diverse place, not just racially but also in nationally identified groups that I had previously thought of as simply “white people” maybe trending to demi-swarthy — Albanians, Armenians, Chaldeans, Greeks, Croatians, that whole southern European salad, with extra olives (although Chaldeans are Iraqis, actually). Walking across campus, I’m as likely to hear Arabic spoken as English, although also Spanish, Russian and any number of other polyglot tongues.
Anyway, back to Alexander. That island nation has produced scores of individuals worthy of a bust, enough that it’s sort of sad to see the one who wept because there were no more worlds to conquer gazing out over Warren Avenue in Detroit. Although I’m sure the locals would give him a fight.
The term at Wayne is dwindling. I think yesterday will be the last or next-to-last office hours I’ll hold, which means less time out of the house but more time to work on other stuff. I like being on campus, any campus. Yesterday I was offered an opportunity to maybe do a master’s program at Wayne State. (I say “offered a maybe” because that’s entirely how vague it was.) I’m trying to clarify my thinking over the next few weeks, and one of the things that I will have to set aside is what a natural student I am, and how much of my self-worth is tied to how well I do on stupid bullshit like the Pew Research Center’s news quiz. I got a perfect score [preen, preen]. For now, I’ll concentrate on feeling smug. It’s not an entirely noble emotion, but it’s better than considering that only 14 percent of Americans know the current inflation rate.
The good news: I can pursue a degree outside of journalism/communications, which is where the graduate assistantship opportunity lies. The bad news: I’m unqualified for almost any practical field of study — Sigh. Should have taken more math. — and the idea of spending the price of a cheap new car on a master’s in something like English makes no sense when I have another college student coming down the pike in a few more years. There are other options — economics, history, maybe urban planning — but at this point I’m thinking grad school after 50 is a luxury for Peter Weller, but not me.
Which is a segue to the bloggage, and brings us to this charming follow-up item: The littlest Robocop, the sequel: Robocop 1.0 weighs in.
OK, time to pack my chute and start the real work of the day. Tonight we’re going to see “La Boheme” at the Michigan Opera Theater, and at the moment Alan is coughing up a lung. How appropriate, as Mimi dies of consumption onstage, to have a little side soundtrack.
So have a great weekend, all.