Flashes of Panic

I took an errands-walk this morning, mostly dealing with the logistics of the myriad bits of paper involved in graduate school applications (yes, even when submitting most of them on-line.) On my way from the Registrar’s to the post office, I crossed paths with one of my old professors.

That description is a bit of understatement. His was the first classroom I entered in my undergraduate career, first semester, first year, more than twelve years ago now. I hadn’t even seated myself when he had me pegged: “It’s [pjm], the only person in the entering class to have a high school named after him.” We discovered later that he was known for, among other things, memorizing the facebook for each incoming class, and not forgetting for years afterward. I had two more classes with him before graduating, so even now, there’s no chance of passing him on the street unrecognized.

He quizzed me briefly about what I was up to, (“What brings you to this spot, right now,”) noted another former student supposedly teaching in one of the departments I am applying to, then sent me on my way saying, “It’s good to see you, you never change.”

That puzzled me most of the way to the post office. It’s entirely likely that he was talking about my physical appearance, since I could still pass for an undergraduate if I wanted to, despite my advanced age. Beyond that, I wonder what he sees that I don’t.

Now Playing: Not The Same from Where You Been by Dinosaur Jr