Yesterday in the grocery store, I came across a snack tray that cost more than my first year of college. That’s because I had been granted a tuition free scholarship and because Carbon Junior College was within easy walking distance of the house I grew up in. Mine was a music scholarship, which is funny because not only was I a mediocre trombonist, but I couldn’t even read music. Nonetheless, I rose to the rank of drum major of the marching band. Also, I was named editor of the school newspaper and elected sophomore class president. Did I mention that Carbon was a very small school?
I was miserable at BYU, but nonetheless was offered a graduate teaching fellowship in the English department. Instead, I opted for a job lifeguarding at The Homestead resort in Heber Valley, where I lived for three glorious summers in a rent-free one-room cabin on the bank of Snake Creek. Subsequent attempts to re-enter academia were rebuffed, as I was deemed insufficiently intelligent by the dean of the English department at the University of Utah. Nonetheless, I opted to live as close to the campus as possible, which is why I still have a number of former “college friends” who were never in fact class mates.
So what have I learned? I’ve learned that college isn’t about learning stuff as much as it is forging contacts that will serve one well in the future. And if you should go to the wrong college—say, BYU—said contacts will be of no avail in your postgraduate life. For example, I was once asked in a job interview if I “felt uncomfortable around people who don’t share my values.” Ever since, I’ve kept mum about B.A. from the Y.
Fact is, however, I do feel uncomfortable around people who don’t share my values. Which is why I live in a neighborhood where Black Lives Matter signs abound and gay pride flags flutter. Unfortunately, our political choices go unmet, thanks to gerrymandered voting districts. Try as we might, we just can’t rid ourselves of senator Mike Lee, whose father was once president of Brigham Young University. Just another reason why I keep my college diploma under wraps. I’d trade it away in a heartbeat for whatever remains of that beloved 1950 Mercury.
