Back to school

But when I arrived back home--that is, when I had called my mother, blushed into the phone as I recounted the story, and asked sheepishly if she could come up and get me--there was only one thing on my mind.

That was nothing new, of course. But things had changed.

'I'm going to get into Stanford,' I announced to my father and Mona as we sat around the dinner table.

'You only have a 3.1, and you've participated in no extracurricular activities,' my dad observed.

'I don't care,' I said. 'I'm getting in.'

I studied for five hours that evening, and did not think about beautiful women, or flowing hair, or bra straps showing. I thought about The Individual and Society--only The Individual and Society.