Classic Style

A lovely illustration from the children's story The Wind in the Willows (1908) by Kenneth Grahame. A pleasant little diversion this lovely, cool, and sunny mid-August morning from the ugliness of the world at home and abroad.   Thanks to my writer and toy soldier friend in Dublin, Ireland, Conrad Kinch, for the illustration.  My sister and I enjoyed The Wind in the Willows as children during the 1970s and were given, at different times, copies of the book from Great Aunt Marnie and Great Aunt Lillian (my maternal grandfather's sisters), as well as Great, Great Aunt Polly (my maternal grandfather's aunt).  All three ladies always remembered us at Christmastime and when birthdays rolled around each year until their deaths in the 1980s and '90s.   Weather cool enough for waistcoats and tweeds is still at least two months off, unless we have a chilly spell in September, but Mr. Badger above has got me thinking about it already.  Until then, I've got seersucke

-- Heinz-Ulrich

Y esterday, August 1st, I bit the bullet and logged into my university email account after a six-week self-imposed summer moratorium.  Courses begin in four weeks on August 30th, so it seemed like the right thing to do as I crank the rusty gears back into motion following a few months of relative peace and quiet. Among the 190+ emails sent to everyone about traffic diversions, construction on campus, very general messages to the university community from the president, the provost, etc., etc. were four or five emails that actually required my attention.  Most were from former students -- solid students -- requesting letters of support for one thing or another.  Not a problem. Then there was an email from my chair, asking me to reply to another student from last spring, who contacted my chair in mid-July inquiring about his final grade for the course he (the student) had with me.  The student in question could have finished with a 91%.  In the end, he received a final grade of 3