I applied for admission to Amherst for two reasons, one rather trivial, the "path not-taken" sort of thing, as my father had gone to Wesleyan and my older brother was a freshman there. More creditable was my respect for the only Amherst grad knew, a high school English teacher, who was also the father of our classmate Max Keeney. He was known as "Tex, 11 perhaps because he looked as if might play a Gary-Cooper role in aWestern movie of the times. By example as much as by instruction, he conveyed a sense of respect for the poets and playwrights that we read. And although I managed to disappoint him sorely with an oral presentation on one of his favorites, Wordsworth, he nonetheless provided my first serious introduction to the rewards to be found in the creative imagination. For that, I am grateful to the Col1ege that shaped both of us, however different in our ways.
My Amherst years were not noteworthy, except for some friendships -I think of Harris and Fitzpatrick, now gone, Fernald and Furlow, whom I saw in Florida some years ago. Teachers, too: Barber, Craig, Roswenc, to name just three who meant much to me. I take, however, much satisfaction in one achievement, due in equal measure to my wife, and productive, we trust, for the College, as well. Two of our daughters and our son attended Amherst, graduating with a Summa and two Magna degrees among them. As my younger brother also graduated in the Class of 1961, I consider myself an Amherst benefactor, perhaps even an Amherst patriarch, if three or four grandchildren will cooperate. They'll have to do instead of dollars, but are not one's offspring the greater gift?