God and Counterculture

Last June, when my sister went directly from the upper half of her graduating class at the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee to working counters at a local ice-cream emporium, I was crude enough (she thought) to prescribe a similar course for all university graduates, in order to ease their reentry into the real world by lessening the culture shock—sort of the ice-cream parlor as decompression chamber idea.

The following September I entered UW-M, adroit enough, I thought, to keep the door between both worlds (the real one and UW-M’s) ajar just a crack-—enough to draw in great gulps of fresh air whenever the danger of lapsing into the intellectual stupor that most students inevitably fall into in the course of matriculation became too great.

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Peter N. Ehrmann

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Last June, when my sister went directly from the upper half of her graduating class at the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee to working counters at a local ice-cream emporium, I was crude enough (she thought) to prescribe a similar course for all university graduates, in order to ease their reentry into the real world by lessening the culture shock—sort of the ice-cream parlor as decompression chamber idea.

The following September I entered UW-M, adroit enough, I thought, to keep the door between both worlds (the real one and UW-M’s) ajar just a crack-—enough to draw in great gulps of fresh air whenever the danger of lapsing into the intellectual stupor that most students inevitably fall into in the course of matriculation became too great.