Oh, to Be Young Again!

At orientation - which was, if I recall correctly, roughly 47 years ago - the Admitter-in-Chief gave us a brief, anecdotal rundown of who was in our class: there are so many doctors, so many PhDs, so many so-and-sos. (He also told us that his job was a bit like being a type of frog that carries its young in its mouth until they're ready to venture out into the world, but I'm not sure I got his point. I am sure I don't remember his point, even if I got it at the time. On the other hand, by now I don't remember what I had for breakfast, so ... Um, I forgot where I was going with this. I do remember that law has a lot to do with whaling, though, which is the important thing.)

At any rate, when we were informed us that our class ranged in age from 12 to... a number in the low 40s... I realized that I was the oldest student in my class - that I was, in fact, a year older than the oldest student in my class, according to the Admitter-in-Chief, but I presumed that was because he hadn't thought to check if I'd had a birthday since he'd admitted me.

The second day of orientation, a group of us were trying to find our way through the labyrinth that is Boalt Hall, and one said, "I feel like a freshman again." And then, turning to me, "I can't imagine what you feel like." The other day someone said something about how "we were all born in the 80s," and then corrected himself, "...or the 70s." He also mentioned that he remembered way back when gas was $1.78 a gallon.

On Friday, though, I was informed that there was someone even older than me in our class. I don't want to investigate; I'm just going to assume it's true.