It's mid-August, and summer has finally come to the--wait, what is this region called, the mid-Atlantic? It came blazing in, apparently hitched to one of the hundreds of u-hauls ambling around town, blanketing apartment parking lots, slowly baking the belongings of their renters. This week, State College's average age will plummet in inverse proportion to its blood-alcohol content. And the local economy will no doubt boom. Ransacked Target shelves, anyone?
As new faculty, JM and I are going to be fed a lot this week at these things called "luncheons" (two of em), and there is also a picnic at the President's house. Via new faculty orientation, we will become better acquainted with Penn State and its students--or, as the new faculty orientation schedule has it, its "student." (agenda item: "the Penn State student").
I'm sure there will be no end of compare and contrast between here and Illinois, but we will try to keep it to ourselves. No one here wants to hear how downright orderly pledge week at U of I seems to me as evidenced from the sorority and fraternity houses on my walks to and from campus. The houses here--only frat houses because of some antiquarian brothel law--seem a bit more chaotic, unregulated, and numerous by comparison, but this is just by sight. Once everyone begins their preparations for the semester and the football games, we'll know more. At that point I'm sure we'll be grateful for the heat, because our windows can be closed.
That's right, folks, even though it's just now summer, it is also very much fall. Let the incongruity begin.