I was reading the class notes.

Go to a college as small as Middlebury and you know everybody, at least those in your year. They put out a publication each annum entitled “New Faces” with pictures of all the freshmen, you can look them up, hell, you can even find these booklets online today, such that you can pin a face to a name, but not always.

Then again, the student body has grown significantly over the past two decades. Now there are 2,580 students instead of the 1,800 when I went, which was a significant increase over the 1,200 of just a few years before. So maybe now you can be anonymous. Or detached and thinking big. With the internet you’ve got the entire world at your fingertips, you can be a loner in real life, but a star online, everybody can find their group, and this is a good thing, because loneliness kills.

But it didn’t used to be this way.

When I went to college there was not only no internet, but no cable TV, only one snowy TV channel and I won’t say it was like “Lord of the Flies,” but in many ways it was. Groupthink ultimately pulled everyone into wearing the same clothes and behaving in the same way. They’d come from the city in their finery, but in a matter of months the most sophisticated women were wearing overalls and painter’s pants, and the men too. The brands weren’t Gucci or Chanel, but L.L. Bean and Bass, the maker of the famous Bass Weejun, the ultimate penny loafer. Everybody became downwardly mobile, it was the opposite of today where you use your clothing to signify your place on the totem pole, the goal was to be equal and not to stand out, and to sell yourself on your brain, what was inside, as opposed to outside. Some of this was the ethos of the day, a lot of it was specific to a highly intelligent coterie in a hothouse in rural Vermont.

Not that I knew all this when I applied. All I knew was the campus was the most beautiful extant (testimonials are rampant), the school was coed when Ivies and others were just dipping their toes into coeducation, and the school had its own ski area, closer to campus than any other college/ski area combination.

What’s not to like?

Well, it took me a while to figure out.

And it took me a while to figure out what was vaunted, was really insignificant.

Like Winter Carnival. Sounds like a party, right? Well, what it really means is there are some NCAA ski races, a hockey game and a concert. Don’t think about getting lucky, almost no one got lucky going to a school where your classmates were akin to brothers and sisters. Then again, so many events that are promoted as paragons of fun, incredible experiences, are not, if you go alone, good luck, if you go with friends maybe you can party.

And when the snow was melting, there was a winter analog. Spring Weekend.

What do I remember about that weekend in April 1971…

Well, going half-drunk to a field where some students with Husqavarnas and other motorcycles I’d never heard of went ’round a dirt track and jumped into the air. And this was before the era of safety codes, there were no barriers, we were right nearby, drinking…that’s what you do in the hinterlands, drink, although they now do heroin too. There’s a lot going on in the city. There’s not much going on in the country. And it’s the same damn people every day, and there’s little opportunity, and people drink and drug just to get through life. I’d like to tell you that’s untrue, but I’d be lying, go live there, you’ll see.

And I believe the Saturday night concert was Brewer & Shipley, who were never hip. Then again, knowing the concert business today I realize small college campuses are at the mercy of secondary agents who are at the mercy of primary agents who either want to sell that which no one wants, or fill a date, and the odds of getting good talent at a fair price is nearly nonexistent, so you get an act with some name recognition that no one is really excited about seeing. And students go to the show because they’ve got nothing better to do. Although there are always those who say they can’t afford it, even though tickets are three or four dollars, because appearing poor is a badge of honor at elite institutions, it’s especially those who went to name prep schools who say they’ve got no money.

But instead of national sports activities on Spring Weekend there were amateur events. And as a freshman, I was still game. Hell, I’d even played volleyball in the fall. So when it came time to sign up for the bike race, I was all in.

And I had a new bike.

Every team needed a bike. This was just when ten speeds with dropped handlebars were becoming the thing. Before beach cruisers, before mountain bikes, before electric bikes. And I had a white Peugeot. Cost $92.50. Yes.

But we needed four riders. And two of them had to be women. Where would we get the women?

And this was long before Title IX, long before all women participated in sports. So we were flummoxed, and then one guy said he’d take care of it.

So it was a relay race, on a gray spring day, in the fifties. It’s almost always gray in the spring in Vermont, if it’s a bluebird day you put on your shorts and go swimming at the quarry, even if it’s not even sixty degrees, because they’re so damn rare.

And like seemingly every college, Middlebury is on a hill. And the relay race was around campus. And it started right in front of my dorm, at the top of the hill, Hepburn Hall.

I can’t remember if I was first or second. I completed my circuit and passed on the bike and as the legs of the race unfolded it was stunning, we appeared to be winning! I was just into participating, I didn’t want to sit in my dorm room with a blank face.

And then the bike was passed for the last leg to a girl I’d never met, and she took off like a shot.

But she came back dead last. Walking the bike. The chain had fallen off.

Now to be honest, I wasn’t thrilled it was my bike. No one ever takes care of your equipment like you do. But this girl walking my bike from the Chapel to Hepburn Hall had an exhausted, pained expression and couldn’t stop talking when she was in earshot. There were only two or three of us still left. And she kept talking, we were having a conversation.

And I was impressed. This was not the typical Middlebury grind, this was not someone repressed and into her look, this was Stephanie Cole.

Made a big impression on me, but I never had another conversation with her again, not for the ensuing three plus years.

But I never forgot the interaction.

Now maybe she was on a different track academically, I’d never seen her in any of my classes. And she didn’t seem to hang out with the girls I knew, the ones we had dinner with at the SDUs (Social Dining Units, eventually they were named after donors, but everybody still called them the SDUs). But I always went to the same SDU, because it closed last, you could get dinner until seven long before the 24/7 food service of today’s gourmand campuses. You end up in your own rut, actually it’s easier than thinking about it.

Now time took its toll on me at Middlebury. At the advent of junior year I realized I’d seen all its tricks, all it had to offer, and what it really was was an educational factory for those who knew how to study, but not much more. Culture? I grew up fifty miles from New York City, forty five percent of these kids had been in the confines of prep schools. The others? They came from all over the country. And when I was done, I got the hell out of there.

To line up a job in Alta, Utah, the only place Middlebury meant anything, the only place it had name recognition.

But that was one of the great things about moving to California. No one asked me my SAT scores, no one asked me where I’d gone to college, to the point where I just started saying “a small school back east.” And if they pushed me, they’d still never heard of it. But once the boomers became parents college admissions competition became fierce and there was that Charles Murray incident and more people have heard of Middlebury, but I graduated nearly half a century ago. Seems like yesterday, but it’s a long damn time.

Now they mail you the alumni magazine every quarter. It’s transparent, they want your money. And most of the publication is stories about the activities of professors and graduates, but at the end of the magazine, there are pages and pages of class notes. Where you can mail in and tell your story.

I intentionally never mailed in. But that does not mean I didn’t read the stories.

To a great degree it’s bragging. And there are pictures of friends who felt they were superior. But the truth is, you’re judging yourself. And them. That’s right, how does your life compare to theirs?

And the truth is it took me ten years to get over going to Middlebury. To realize not everybody in America was smart, never mind checking you on your word choices.

And there’s a five year reunion. That’s just for the hard core.

And then a ten year… I was not in the greatest place, breaking up with my girlfriend, but I never would have flown cross-country to attend anyway.

And they have them every five years thereafter. And they posts lists of the people who go, and pictures too, and that’s when you realize very few people actually go to the reunion, and really it’s about reconnecting with your friends, and the truth is the friends I made there I still want to have contact with I do.

And as the years go by, fewer and fewer people send in updates. To the point where the class correspondents implore you to. And then you’re just like the old classes you saw in the magazine back when you graduated. There were only one or two people testifying, everybody else was silent. Maybe because their story was already written, there was nothing left to brag about, but one thing is for sure, everybody still reads the notes.

And then back in 2013 the magazine did a story on me! It seemed like I’d come full circle, they sent a professional photographer to my house, the article was great and…

Crickets.

I assumed I’d hear from some of my classmates. But no. Because they didn’t want to hear that I’d succeeded and they hadn’t. They were old enough to have their careers written in stone, but still…they just couldn’t be friendly and acknowledging. That’s cool, I get it.

But the truth is you never forget your college days. Especially at a place like Middlebury, where no one ever goes home for the weekend, where you’re all in it together, they’re formative years.

And the fiftieth reunion is right around the corner.

I wasn’t planning to go to that one either, but prior to lockdown I was at a party at an actor’s house who told me he’d just come back from his fiftieth high school reunion in Minnesota. I asked him why he went. He said his parents were dead, he was never going back to Minnesota, this was the last chance, after this it was over.

So I thought of going to my high school reunion. I’ve never ever been to any reunion, but it’s the fiftieth, now or never. But then I thought about the people I’d see… I couldn’t wait to get out of high school, best years of your life? Not for me.

But I’m still reading the damn class notes.

And you read for every year you were there, the three older classes and the three younger ones. And unfortunately, there comes a moment when you can no longer put a face to the name. Happens when you’re not paying attention. You know everybody, just like you remember every single class you took, and then they’re gone. Sure, you remember those who lived with you in the dorm, your friends, but everybody else? They fade away.

And I used to read the recent classes too. To see what they were up to after graduation. The younger generations are world-beaters in a way we never were.

But now I no longer even do that. Too much time has passed. I realize I might still feel young, like I just graduated from college yesterday, but if the students saw me on campus they’d snicker at the old guy, it’s the nature of life.

And since it’s the Covid era, the college e-mails you the class notes. You used to have to wait for the print magazine to see them.

And the e-mail came in about a week ago and I kept it, noted it as new, told myself when I had the time I’d dive in, but I never did.

And then it was Friday afternoon, yesterday, and it was now or never. The world slows down on Friday afternoons and I thought I’d tie up all the loose ends, and the last one was the Middlebury class notes.

Which were unsatisfying. Because, like I said, few of my compatriots weighed in.

And it’s a PDF, not a physical book, and I get interrupted a few times, but I decide to scroll to the end, I’m a completist.

And that’s when I get to the death notices. You always look for those who were in your class.

But they had a special box. For those who’d died in the interim when the magazine was essentially put to bed but not yet published. And in that list was…

Stephanie Cole.

I immediately started Googling, looking for the obituary. And I found quite a long one, which is not always the case.

The picture was not good. Then again, I don’t look too good either.

And she was my same age.

And her story…

She’d graduated third in her class in high school. She’d been a ski racer at Middlebury, that I knew, but no one paid attention to NCAA sports when I was in college, I went to one football game because my parents were in town, that was it. Never a basketball game… No one I knew ever went to a competition.

And after graduating she’d taught skiing and then gotten a job with the U.S. Ski Team in Park City. But on the drive out there, she had a bipolar event.

That was the word on Stephanie. I’d asked my bike-racing friends. She had mental health issues.

So she had to give up that job in Utah, and ultimately came back to New Hampshire, had a son and daughter, and worked in libraries.

And then she died.

Oh, of course she did much more than that, but I couldn’t get over the fact that she passed. It was all over. That’s all they wrote. Done. In the rearview mirror. Whew!

It’s starting to happen. My generation is starting to go. And the one thing about baby boomers, they don’t think they’re ever going to die, they believe biology doesn’t apply to them. If they just repeat the mantra, wear hip clothing, maybe even get plastic surgery, they’ll be here forever.

But that is patently untrue.

Some people live to be a hundred.

Some not even old enough to collect Social Security, which is not your money, it’s an insurance program, to make sure you have some cash in your old age if you run out, which many baby boomers are gonna, because they never saved for the future, were too busy living a high lifestyle, spending all their dough.

But the finality of death. It’s eerie.

When it’s all over it won’t matter I went to Middlebury College. It won’t matter what I did. A few people will remember me, and then I’ll die. I thought I had my whole life in front of me, and then the hourglass flipped when I wasn’t watching and now the sand is pouring and I’m racing to complete, get done, go to the places I always assumed I would but am now realizing I won’t.

And it’s not even the same world. A number one is not the ubiquitous track it once was. A movie is not something to stimulate your mind and talk about. One tries to keep up, but then at some point you wonder whether you should even bother, you’re old, embrace what you had, don’t bother trying to grab that which might be meaningless just because it’s new.

I’m too old to die young. My obituary won’t say I was cut down before my time. And unlike Stephanie Cole, I won’t leave any children behind. The lineage ends with me.

This is my life. Most of it has already been written. I can’t go back and change it, it’s carved in stone. Do I have regrets? ABSOLUTELY! But that’s history now.

It’s an endless march from now on. My generation, my friends, are going to pass. It’s started, it’s picking up steam. And some will die from bad behavior, some from accidents, but with most it will be a health issue that they have little control over. Cancer. They’ll get sicker and sicker, be a shadow of their former selves, hold on, and then die.

And you don’t want to live too long, because then all your friends are gone.

But I wish some of them were still here.

Stephanie Cole Nelson: https://bit.ly/3zcQXkI

This is the hottest show on television. My inbox has filled up for weeks with people asking me, “Have you seen it?”

I hadn’t. But now that it’s all over I decided to binge it, to see what all the hoopla is about.

It’s very simple, it’s on HBO.

Over two decades, HBO has built its credibility to the point where the outlet has the imprimatur of quality, if it’s on the service people will check it out, and give it the benefit of the doubt.

But not so much on HBO Max, even though the app comes free with an HBO cable subscription. Not a single person has ever e-mailed me about “Love Life,” even after I wrote about it, even though it’s the modern “Sex and the City” and if you liked that show you’d love “Love Life.”

More people have watched “Hacks,” but it still hasn’t penetrated the national consciousness.

Proving that HBO is for older people, for those who still watch TV in real time, who see streaming as secondary. As for youngsters, they’re never gonna wait week by week for a service to dribble out a show, they can’t handle the dissatisfaction of waiting, and neither can I.

So how good is “White Lotus”?

It’s good, I wouldn’t say very good, somewhere in the B territory if you’re into letter grades, maybe with a +, but I find it hard to give it one. Because “White Lotus” is too often slow, and too often predictable.

I know, I know, it’s supposed to have the pace of a vacation. But when I think of the foreign series I’m watching now…it rolls right along, it keeps your attention. Not that a show has to be outrageously dynamic to grab your attention and keep you watching. “Six Feet Under” is the best example of this, it’s subtle but riveting.

So, the word on “White Lotus” is the people are hateful and someone dies.

Unfortunately, that’s the set-up from the very first scene, who dies, and you keep thinking about it, believing you have it figured out, and then you get to the point where you don’t really care.

And the truth is Armond is so over the top as to be unbelievable.

SPOILER ALERT

When he steals and keeps the drugs and the girls don’t press him on it… I mean really?

As for his devolution into drugs…that’s not wholly believable either, ditto his seduction of Dillon.

But having said all of the above, I’d recommend watching “White Lotus” sheerly for the acting. Connie Britton and Steve Zahn are so good it’s nearly unbelievable, Britton rings so true, and Zahn supersedes his stoner/dumbass personality to be warm, yet he sometimes moves into the unbelievable too.

But the best thing is the fight between the two parents. Whenever we went on a family vacation there was a fight, always.

And my father was like Zahn, getting reflective, talking about the family and how great it was we could all be there together. And he insisted we all go, no one could be left behind, no excuses, you were in. But sometimes you could bring a friend.

As for the son’s exclusion… Welcome to my life. Sydney Sweeney eats up all the atmosphere, like my sister. She talks back to her parents yet needs to be soothed by them and…I felt isolated and misunderstood just watching “White Lotus.”

Sydney Sweeney. Her performance is nearly in the league of Britton and Zahn’s. She stays true to her character, a child of privilege who is against all the philosophies and actions of her parents, yet enjoys the trappings and never questions the contradiction.

And every character is flawed. Britton is understanding, but she’s myopic when it comes to her work. And she wears the pants in the family. Who is in control? Usually the person making the money. You can see why Zahn had the affair, he needed the validation. Which he ultimately gets from Britton, bringing the couple back together, because there’s so much invested in the marriage that the couple soldiers on. The poor get divorced, not the upper classes, they realize how much there is to lose, they invested in education, they climbed their way up the business ladder, they’re not impulsive in major decisions, they can weigh the consequences, they ultimately hew the line.

As for Shane Patton and his bride Rachel? It’s hard to believe Rachel went into the marriage with so little knowledge of Shane and his family, what she was getting into. As for Shane himself… The higher you go on the economic totem pole the more narrow the vision. The rich believe they’re entitled to their wealth and that things should always go their way, and when they don’t they pout and seek revenge. Never underestimate the power of a rich person to be petty. They cannot handle a chink in their armor, they must appear together at all times, they must come out on top.

The piece-de-resistance is Molly Shannon as Shane’s mother. Crashing the honeymoon without thinking about it. Unfortunately Shannon does not wholly ring true, but her words ultimately do. She implores Rachel not to work, to revel in being rich, you don’t want to have a job, you’re so much more powerful being your own boss sitting on boards and throwing parties. And Shannon says all this with absolutely no self-knowledge. She’ll apologize for her behavior at times, but never for her status.

As you can see, “White Lotus” deals with serious issues of wealth and privilege, most people couldn’t even afford this trip, which Shane actually says to Rachel.

So the wealth disparities and the political viewpoint of the youngsters is spot-on, but they’re not enough to make this series a classic. Then again, maybe the people talking about this show hunger so much for the truth that when they find it they talk about it, since it’s not in evidence in the superhero movies and other fictions foisted upon us.

And despite the voice that always begs you not to take Jennifer Coolidge seriously, her performance rings true, as the scion of a rich family who is hobbled by her money and upbringing. Without the traditional challenges of an education and a job, her life is consumed by the misdeeds of her parents and the abuse of alcohol. But at least she knows herself, when she talks about being so needy…nothing turns others off as much as being needy.

So what you’ve got is a show that’s trying to be highbrow that could have focused a bit more on the script than the visuals, which are exquisite. As for the music, I know they were setting the tone, but I could have used less, as well as that constant shot of the waves breaking across the rocks.

But at least HBO is greenlighting stuff like this. We need it. But even more we need the American audience to broaden its horizons, there’s so much better stuff out there in the world. But it’s not on HBO. And it might have subtitles. And one thing “White Lotus” illustrates is the wealthy want everything to be easy, to be served up to them in a palatable fashion, and that’s HBO.

“Carrie Underwood’s account clicked like on an anti-mask tweet. The outraged reaction shows what happens when country stars are silent on politics.”: https://wapo.st/3y1YUrt

Since we canceled Morgan Wallen for ignorance, can we now do the same with Carrie Underwood…and Jason Aldean?

In case you missed the memo, Carrie Underwood “liked” the video of a school anti-masking idiot.

Now if you’re paying attention, playing the home game, you know that yesterday Culver City, California, which is where they make so many of the films and TV shows the right hoover up, as well as the left, issued a requirement that all students are required to be vaccinated against Covid-19: https://lat.ms/2UAN1v8 Are the parents up in arms? No, they’re CHEERING!

As are most Americans:

“The GOP is losing the argument on coronavirus mandates – The Republican Party has rather clearly marched itself into a minority position, from masks in schools to targeted vaccine medicines”: https://wapo.st/2XHanjV

Bottom line? The “freedom” caucus may be very vocal, but they’re in a distinct minority, check the stats in the above article. Turns out people are scared and they want to be safe.

And then you’ve got bozo Jason Aldean marveling that he sees no masks in his audience, meanwhile, Los Angeles is now requiring them:

“L.A. County to require face masks at large outdoor events”: https://lat.ms/3subIps

What’s the moral of the story?

Move to California, where you have a better chance of riding out the pandemic safely, in a state that is denigrated emotionally but factually is doing quite well, never mind few people actually leaving.

Or, the tide is turning, people everywhere want to be safe.

Or both.

Now you might think this is a non-issue, but I ask you punk, do you feel lucky enough to go on tour in Tennessee and Texas and Florida, with their inane anti-protection statutes? Your audience may sympathize with you, but they can’t beat the law, then again some are now fighting it. Jason Isbell said no-go, he just canceled his appearance at a festival in Bristol, on the border of Tennessee and Virginia: https://bit.ly/3xWP7mt

But we’re not supposed to draw lines, we’re supposed to be all accommodating and kumbaya. But really, when it comes to life and death?

The screws have been tightening, vaccination is required for more activities and in more locations every day. And those who oppose them are becoming pariahs. Funny, I thought abortion would be the issue that rallied people against the right, but history repeats with a twist, in other words the protests against the war in the sixties are now against ignorant-anti-vaxxers and maskers in the twenty first century maybe because these issues affect EVERYBODY! And just like the kids had to wake up their elders to the truth in Vietnam, a great swath of the public is now doing its best to wake up the ignorant re vaccines and masks, doing its best to fight misinformation where it counts, not in cyberspace, but in real life.

This is the story of our age. You might be reading about the Taliban in Afghanistan, but this is what America is truly concerned with, millions who are so ignorant and afraid they refuse to get jabbed for the good of society. Yes, we need you to get a measles shot so we can have herd immunity, anti-vaxxing parents brought an essentially extinct disease back from the graveyard to “save” their kiddies while the rest of us pay the price, I’m supposed to get my MMR update, but I can’t right now because of the Covid vaccine and other health issues. Now I’m at risk, this time mainly as a result of the non-efforts of upper middle class people who believe they know better than the government.

Yes, ignorance knows no bounds, it’s prevalent on the right and the left, and we must fight it every daman day…talk about rust never sleeping.

Now the truth is the concert business has been tightening show restrictions. Now, on a major tour, the odds of getting in willy-nilly, without vaccination, are very low. But the reins must be pulled even tighter.

Turns out Carrie Underwood was shamed by the public. She needed no pundit, no politico to get the ball rolling. The public is paying attention, this is a major issue, and you don’t want to be on the wrong side of it, you don’t want to be afraid. Is it really that hard to stand up for safety? Are you really that afraid of a vocal minority? Because when it comes to death, there are no supporters. Look at all the schools that opened and then had to send students home to be quarantined, in one case because a parent sent their infected kid to school. Do you really want to support anti-masking laws in educational institutions? As for that parent, they might as well go into the witness protection program.

The times they are a-changin’. You can stay home and be scared, believe vaccines are a political issue, pull up bogus science online to support your position, but the truth is the tide is going against you, and once again, this is not emotion speaking, this is facts! Time to bite the bullet, get vaxxed and make up an excuse why you didn’t do it sooner. Not only for your own health, but for everyone’s. And for the evisceration of future variants that present vaccines might be powerless against!

Ann Wilson, vocalist extraordinaire, is the lead singer of Heart.

https://www.stitcher.com/show/the-bob-lefsetz-podcast

https://music.amazon.com/podcasts/9ff4fb19-54d4-41ae-ae7a-8a6f8d3dafa8/the-bob-lefsetz-podcast?returnFromLogin=1&

https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/the-bob-lefsetz-podcast/id1316200737