Death by Apathy
the time of year when mailboxes begin filling up
with charitable solicitationsbut often not
as searingly desperate as this:
the sun is rising over our beloved campus and a
new day begins for young students living in the
very halls where once we roamed, loved and lost,
drank and passed out only to rise and love again.
Imagine the bicycles parked along the quadrangle,
the crisply cold mornings, and likely some
lingering snowdrifts. Faculty are preparing for
their lectures, shuffling into recital halls and
scrabbling through stacks of yellowed notes in
the very rooms we shared with our classmate
Howard Jackson, a ghetto landlord who was
defenestrated in a tenant rebellion last year;
with Marjorie Allen, who is serving a short
prison term over an accounting misunderstanding;
and with Biff Orlando, who disappeared while
surveying Mauna Loa in an ultralight of his own
This same sun
is also rising over Iraq. A very different day
awakens there for citizens and soldiers in
appallingly distasteful surroundings. Imagine the
sounds of gunfire and the fear that exists in
that depressing country! You and I can rejoice
that weve successfully passed the age test
and cant be sucked into the next pre-emptive
war to overturn a pissant Middle Eastern tyranny.
You should say a prayer of thanks while writing a
check to our school.
me to the point of this letter. I noticed that
you havent given to our colleges
annual fund since the market melted.
Unfortunately, our beloved colleges
endowment also went south with the
treasurers zeal for buying collateralized
mortgage obligations. Our alma mater may soon be
foreclosed by the banks. In this time of
reckoning Im begging your help. Gird your
loins against apathy, say sayonara to
indifference, and put the kibosh on listlessness.
Sieze the moment now to send a check to
your alma mater. Better yet, use your credit card.
Next year is
our 25th reunion and Im confidant you
dont want your college going on the auction
block to be turned into a Wal-Mart or mental
institution. Make your donation now! Give your
school some money in memory of those scarred
desks, second-hand bicycles and shuffling
professors. Give in memory of Howard, Marjorie
and Bill who can only be with us in spirit. Give now,
because (God forbid) this might be your last day
on earth and I know you havent given a dime
to the old school.
Your Class Agent
p.s. After 24
years, this is the last letter I will be writing
you. A miracle occurred when my wife hit the Mega
Million Lottery. Im finally hanging it all
up and heading for Costa Rica to write my novel.