Sylvia's Journal

Today is my last day on the Board of OBTS. At the end of the day, Magid and I will be let go and leave the work and the many tasks to those who were elected after us or who were appointed and took on another term. It is a dedicated group of people; strong personalities with opinions and a tremendous amount of experience as teachers and faculty members.

To this day, despite my long exposure to this group (I have been coming to these annual conferences for 17 years) the world of academe remains an alien culture. There are expressions and abbreviations that people use all the time that I cannot seem to keep straight. I have asked but forgot; they are meaningless for me. Issues of tenure, research versus teaching and grading are irrelevant to me but stand center stage in this culture.

I brought everyone their party bags, a tradition I inherited from my predecessor and embellished a little bit by not only putting in things that increase the trade deficit with China but also food for thought, candy and things to doodle with. The brightly colored party bags -primary colors only – stand out against the muted tones of the very corporate board room. Outside in the hall is a huge portrait of the center’s namesake, a local entrepreneur. He is painted running up stairs through a phalanx of clapping people, with a twinkle in his eyes. He looks very young for having made enough money to finance this building. Maybe that was part of the dream. Through this portrait he has secured eternal youth for himself and a place to meet and study for the generations to follow.

Axel in the meantime is on a historical tour and visits Fort Sumter while we do board business. He is tourist among many others in the muggy hot air while I freeze to death in the overcooled board room. We meet up for cocktails with the Doctoral Institute students and faculty who are just getting started with their pre-conference event.

Dinner is in a fancy restaurant, up carpeted stairs with a Steve Wonder look-alike playing the piano for the downstairs guests. We get the piped music. I am shocked at the prices on the menu but relax when I see a steak tartar appetizer that can function as a main course. It’s more than a main course and Axel finishes it off. And I have once again confirmed that I am weird: she wants to live in Afghanistan and eats raw meat. Everyone else around me had the more civilized variety of meat that is cooked, filet mignon that, most claim, is the best they ever had.

Axel and I don’t sit at the same table and so we haven’t had a chance to catch up on what he has done. Instead he talks with other guys his age about the feelings triggered by our possible move east – at least I think that’s what he was doing. Imagine that, men talking about feelings! It could have been a group of women together. This is what’s so nice about this bunch of people who have been so welcoming to both of us over the years.