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.