The year 1992 seems deceptively recent until one realizes that whole twelve-year-olds have been put together since then, built molecule by molecule into a generation of giggling girls and shaggy-haired boys not quite young enough to be my children but shockingly close to being old enough to have children.
Remember when you were a kid, and, when you were hungry, you ate, either food that you liked or food that your mom forced you to eat, and, when you weren’t hungry, you didn’t eat?
Two test panels, perhaps six feet tall by four feet wide, one of argillite, one of Wissahickon schist, stare blankly over the rubble of the torn up tennis courts just south of Dillon Gym. They prefigure the coming radical transformation of this open space, which, before it was covered with tennis clay, was landscaped as football and then baseball fields, but which has never before been built upon.
Frist is a place, of course. It is a campus center, opened in 2000 and enthusiastically directed by Paul Breitman, who describes Frist on its website as a “hub of activity and interactive learning at Princeton,” “an inviting, inclusive, and exciting gathering place for the entire campus community” which “takes the concept of community building to the next level.” Well, okay.
At least since I have been on campus and Shirley Tilghman has been University president – both situations date to fall 2001 – the Princeton Tory and the Organization of Women Leaders have not been able to get along.