Word: wanderings
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...Snap" courses have always existed, changed, and then other snaps have taken their places. Under the present regime at Harvard, it is surprising to find such a thing as a "snap" field. Apart from that, the present arrangement is unjust to students, both those who wander mistakenly into the field of Geography, and those capable individuals who never get a chance...
...done good-humoredly is a great thrill. The trick is to know when to stop and take it all with a grain of salt. And though the Casino has made Monte-Carlo's reputation, still there are other things even for a student on the vacation from Oxford. To wander in the mountains and see the flowers is alone worth the trip here. And then to have the natives tell you the story of every flower that the breath of a flower is it's perfume; and that you should eat the honey--for then you can taste the flowers...
Like John Dos Passes' trilogy, The Old Bunch is punctuated and underlined by scraps of current popular songs, but the background (Chicago from 1921 to 1934) is integrated with the story. Some of the 20-odd main characters wander to Manhattan, Paris, Palestine, Greece, Poland, but the principal focus is on Chicago and "the bunch'' as they grew up there. "The bunch," high-school age in 1921, were second-generation Russian Jews. Few of their immigrant fathers were well off; most of them were buttonhole makers, shoemakers, pawnbrokers, barbers, cigar-makers. Most of the mothers still spoke...
...Sitting quietly at his maple desk, the Vagabond's thoughts wander into devious channels, and his pen following his mind as a child imitates its seniors--traces an incongruous line of thought, erratic but mild. Today he loiters before the haberdasheries of Harvard Square, gazing in vain at windows filled with things he wished his friends had given him for Christmas and wishing in vain be could return most of the things they did give him. Friends pass by. Some with tanned faces that bespeak of southern holidaying. A lucky few with ruddy faces who had found snow in which...
...through classes the dream is in my mind. Afterwards to wander aimlessly . . . Shepard Hall. The sign on the door reads, "Harvard Bureau for Street Traffic Research; Driver Test Clinic." Some impulse moves me inside. A professor beside a machine that seems a cross between an airplane cockpit and the driver's seat of an automobile. "You have come for a test?" he asks. "I don't know," I reply. Without more encouragement he ushers me to the seat and bids me grasp the wheel. "When you see the red light, apply the brakes as fast...