Nov 2000
Hello again, classmates. Having survived the summer and the tough duty of helping to organize the PGA Championship in August (Yes, I personally instructed Tiger on the subtleties of the golf course), I return with renewed vigor to pass on your various adventures.
Much like the Olympic games, which seemed to happen tomorrow or yesterday but not today, it is my pleasure to report, on September 21, that Quentin “The Astronomer”Lawson was married on October 7 to Ellen Ludlow Quinn in Washington, DC. Q, now married to another Q, works for the Energy Department, where he no doubt is putting to good use the intuitive scientific genius that got him through “Astro” junior year. When asked on an exam to calculate how long a star burning at a stipulated rate would shine before it burnt out, Q replied: “ I really don’t know, but it would burn for 30 light years longer with Plat formate, another reason that all professional stars use Shell hydrogen.” Is it any wonder the Energy Department wanted him? For another trip down nostalgia lane, I received the following communique from my esteemed predecessor-san, Mr. William Bogaty, reporting comatose from Tokyo.
“Hi there, John. Your correspondent in Tokyo here. I have seen scattered reports in Alumni Notes of my removal from Washington to Tokyo, describing my Tokyo job with ExxonMobil in various grandiose term, such as ‘King of the East’ and ‘Czar of All Who Possess Epicanthic Folds.’ I am constrained to admit that these and other descriptions associated with my job that have appeared in your column are, um, slightly exaggerated. But I like them and so won’t go into any detail on the actual menial tasks I engage in (other than some of my favorite things, like wearing white gloves as I repossess security and cleaning the office tea trolley). Let’s just say I am in charge of everything at ExxonMobil in Japan that is designed not to make a profit, and so far I have managed to ensure that that design has been met.
”Helen and I have been extremely busy since her arrival in late March, enjoying the manifold pleasures of Tokyo (not the least of which is the entirely acceptable sake I am sipping now as I type this). We are living in central Tokyo where rent is approximately the same as that of a beachside house in Southampton in high summer, and while we are far from the waves (except when the toilets overflow), we do have an excellent view of our Japanese garden through the living room doors. We have, I confess, somewhat desecrated the Zen aspect of the garden by the addition of a Weber barbecue, but that’s just East-meets-West. Although work has been punishing, we have managed several side trips into the hinterland and into that fine, old Japanese institution, the hot spring resort. Our kids are quite keen on this, once they understood that water hot enough to boil eggs is actually also supposed to be healthy bathing. My Japanese has come back pretty fluent, although, in the words of one taxi driver, it is ‘somewhat old-fashioned.’ I would have stiffed him for that comment, except that there’s no tipping in Japan, which removes at least one avenue invented in the West to trade insults on the level of interpersonal service. Helen has determined to start taking Japanese lessons, despite my urging that she brush up first on her English.
“Our kiddies entered the local Japanese public school, producing a sociological interchange between children, school, parents, and teachers that I can only describe as ‘forensic.’ It’s actually worked out quite nicely, but we’re seeing the process of socialization of children in this country as the coal-face, as it were. We have, I think, three different kinds of school hats – together with detailed rules on the circumstances in which each is worn, at least three different kinds of shoes (ditto), etc. The kids are rapidly learning all the bad words used by Japanese children in the playground, an important marker in the march toward cultural integration. Sophia will be changing over to a local international school, in our attempt to ensure that she learns to read English. Alexander will stay at the public school at least another year. The quality of the teaching at the public school surpasses anything I remember in the U.S.
”How long will we be here? Don’t have a clue, although, given our present state of mind, ‘forever’ wouldn’t be bad if my corporate masters would let it happen. I recall that it is a customary commonplace to conclude these kinds of notes with a gracious offer for any classmate who happens to be out this way to look us up. But I really don’t want to see anybody, so I’ll just skip it. As ever, William Bogaty.“
We thank William for his report and urge all of you, wherever you may be, to file same. Happy Thanksgiving.