Princeton, New Jersey is a University town. An enclave of primarily Liberal ideals, privilege and Upper Class Status. Rents are expensive and the attitudes of many residents could be considered equally as lofty. In the over half century that I have been living or visiting here I can count on one hand the number of unsolicited conversations I have had with “the Townies”. It’s not a “Hail fellow and well met!” kind of place. The residents aren’t actually rude as much as dismissive. Like the English and French, if you are not already acquainted the others will pass by without comment or sideways glance. Unless you happen to be recognized as a Political, Academic or Entertainment persona of importance, you and your breath are free to leave town as you wish.
When I was in grammar school my parents would walk me around the campus. We delighted in strolling along the tree lined walkways and staring into the windows of venerable stone buildings as if ancient knowledge and sources of wealth were secreted within and could be spied upon. My father promised that if I was accepted at Princeton University he would buy me any car I wanted. Of course he was completely unaware that teachers considered me what today is referred to as a “challenged” learner, more likely to work as a groundskeeper if I was on University grounds at all. My Sicilian grandfather was absolutely certain that all I needed to do was apply to the college. With my last name ending in a vowel I was certain to be accepted based simply upon my name’s association with the glories of Rome and the Renaissance. He had no idea what WASPS were or in what “esteem” they held immigrants from Southern Europe. Even the Italians looked down on Sicilians, who were treated as little better than the domesticated animals they often lived with. A simple and kindly people loaded with southern charm but as hard to educate as the stone walls they excelled at building.
I attended a prep school outside of Princeton and when my buddies and I were recognized as out of towners while walking along an isolated road, a carload of townies chased me up into a wooded field with the intention of kicking my ass. I hid, they left and Earth rolled on indifferently.
While in college I often brought dates to the beautiful campus where we could be alone. Sometimes we would crash the dances held at the school’s “Eating Clubs” which were unofficial fraternities. If I was accompanied by a date, no one challenged me. As I was writing today a group of students beside me were lamenting that those bastions of social standing Eating Clubs were still primarily interested in adding the offspring of only very wealthy parents to their rosters.
In the early days of my television career I ended up doing some videotaping at the University. The director, crew and I ate in one of the student cafeterias. Unfortunately I had chosen to wear a jacket I had recently bought and was proud of. It’s iridescent fabric caught the eyes of nearby students one of whom “whispered” “Look at his jacket!!” and they began to snicker. My face must have been obviously flushed because the director asked if I was ok. All my pain was internal and only my self esteem bled.
One Christmas my girlfriend and I were walking between the impressive architecture and dorm buildings that cover the campus. We decided to lay side by side on the thick snow and spread our arms to create angels. The stain of primary colored holiday lights cast a rainbow sheen on the shiny snow around us. Our breath rose in clouds as we laughed together, safe and secure within that cocoon of prestige and wealth.
I have had enough exposure to Academia to know I did not want to teach. I was a “townie” at heart and never to be accepted by University types. Despite my life long interest in academic subjects, I have always been an auto-didact, my years in college were fruitless. I have often been accused of wearing my heart on my sleeve, vulnerable and easily hurt. In reality, it was always my intellect I felt compelled to protect. I have never escaped the “challenged” learner self image.