We both have degrees of ambivalence about our Harvard lives, experiences,
memories. In our senior year were earnestly involved in photography, and
more conventional academic pursuits were of lesser salience. We lived in
the cheapest apartment in Cambridge: $40 per month, on the third floor of
a 3-decker at the end of Auburn St., down past Central Square. My mother
characterized it as "a slum" and it sort of was --the gas heater wasn't
the sort of thing you'd want going when you were asleep, the neighbors
downstairs were unspeakable (drunks, among other things), and our real
life centered around the Carpenter Center (where we were Lab Assistants
in still photography). I also worked as a progress photographer on the
State Street Bank building, now dwarfed by other skyscrapers in Boston's
business district, but at the time a pretty remarkable height from which
to view the skyline. We were quite clear that we meant to go into the
Peace Corps upon graduation, and I was sure that I wanted to go to
Sarawak. Our alternative plans involved becoming documentary
photographers of Boston's transformation,
but that scheme was pretty
fuzzy and acceptance for Malaysia X training (in Hawaii, starting in
June) made it unnecessary to further clarify the fuzziness. So we left
Harvard without attending graduation, having left for Peace Corps training.
That year we had a number of friends with whom we've lost touch: Jan
Broek, Dick Sennett, Eleanor River, David
Smith, Jon Child, Len Gittleman, Susan
Butler.
