Random post is Random: Kenyon is not near Uganda
I suck as a pro fic writer; I'm sweating far too much blood over my Big Finish entry. And at the same time, I don't want to go outside and sweat over snow shoveling.
So, I'm going to randomly tell y'all about Kenyon College.
It's a funky little place in the middle of nowhere (one of the school paper's cartoons was accurately called "Somewhere Near a Cow Pasture") in a town so small that - I kid you not - the town is inside the college, not the other way around. You walk out of the dorms at one end, head down the high street past the general store (new comics arrive on Thursdays), the bank, the inn nobody could afford to eat at, and go through the gates to arrive at the classroom buildings.
There was a tiny, decrepit, beautiful Episcopal chapel. Members of the rock climbing club would practice by trying to circumnavigate it about a foot off the ground, clutching to the rough stone. There was also a random top of a column on the ground in front of one of the buildings, left there and never moved when that building first burnt down. Now the column is used as a set and the building is used as a film auditorium. (New movies on Wednesday, Friday and Saturday, with a black-and-white serial on Wednesdays, timed to have one new episode all semester. If you sit in the back, you have to cheer for the villain.)
The place was named for the British lord who'd paid to build a retreat where men could learn to be Episcopalian priests without the immorality of the world, the heathen, and girls to distract them. (Women, Kenyon, and feminism is another, much longer and slightly rantier post). The family is still extant and the school would pay for the current Lord to come every four years to wave to us and say how proud he was of the whole thing while his body language radiated "WTF did granddaddy get us INTO?" The actual school founder had the glorious name of "Philander Chase" and there is an inaccurate, wall-sized mural of him picking out the spot for the original building in the post office.
And every student inevitably had this conversation with someone:
"Where do you go to college?"
"Kenyon."
"Oh! How do you like Africa?"
Which is why one of the students practically paid her tuition selling T-shirts that said "Kenyon is not near Uganda."
And now I have to go deal with snow. We've got about 2-3 inches of "light dusting, no accumulation except to the south" and it's still not accumulating at a significant rate.
So, I'm going to randomly tell y'all about Kenyon College.
It's a funky little place in the middle of nowhere (one of the school paper's cartoons was accurately called "Somewhere Near a Cow Pasture") in a town so small that - I kid you not - the town is inside the college, not the other way around. You walk out of the dorms at one end, head down the high street past the general store (new comics arrive on Thursdays), the bank, the inn nobody could afford to eat at, and go through the gates to arrive at the classroom buildings.
There was a tiny, decrepit, beautiful Episcopal chapel. Members of the rock climbing club would practice by trying to circumnavigate it about a foot off the ground, clutching to the rough stone. There was also a random top of a column on the ground in front of one of the buildings, left there and never moved when that building first burnt down. Now the column is used as a set and the building is used as a film auditorium. (New movies on Wednesday, Friday and Saturday, with a black-and-white serial on Wednesdays, timed to have one new episode all semester. If you sit in the back, you have to cheer for the villain.)
The place was named for the British lord who'd paid to build a retreat where men could learn to be Episcopalian priests without the immorality of the world, the heathen, and girls to distract them. (Women, Kenyon, and feminism is another, much longer and slightly rantier post). The family is still extant and the school would pay for the current Lord to come every four years to wave to us and say how proud he was of the whole thing while his body language radiated "WTF did granddaddy get us INTO?" The actual school founder had the glorious name of "Philander Chase" and there is an inaccurate, wall-sized mural of him picking out the spot for the original building in the post office.
And every student inevitably had this conversation with someone:
"Where do you go to college?"
"Kenyon."
"Oh! How do you like Africa?"
Which is why one of the students practically paid her tuition selling T-shirts that said "Kenyon is not near Uganda."
And now I have to go deal with snow. We've got about 2-3 inches of "light dusting, no accumulation except to the south" and it's still not accumulating at a significant rate.