Here's what I wrote for our 35th reunion:
Theo Armour â€“ Profile - 01/26/2001
Back in '66 I arrived at B&N wearing a raccoon coat and an Australian outback hat. I sped around Cambridge on a French Velosolex moped. I worshipped Lenore, Nancy, Nancy and Sarah. I liked to give parties where the highlight was the cheapest beer (Black Label) available. Sock it to me. Groovy. This is where it's at.
I am not like that any more. I find the thought of being passionately in love with four different people within six months to be most curious. In fact I think I would have a lot of difficulty communicating with the person that I was then. I donâ€™t think it would be much fun to sit under the piano and talk about Kahlil Gibran (â€œThe hidden well-spring of your soul must rise and run murmuring to the sea.â€)
Then again, if you remember, Neal Morse was going to be President - stepping easily from head of the class to chief of state. Jeff Rudman was going to be Chairman of the Democratic Party. As I remember, around the class, all of our people were going to have a role to play in the administration.
I wanted to be Minister of Pleasure. It was Minister, not Secretary. Why, you ask? Well, just for the fun of it, of course.
Curiously I have never let that mission escape my thoughts for very long. It became my manifest destiny. In so many ways my life has been lived as a preparation for that role. Truly, I dedicated myself towards assuming the rigors that this position in life entails.
And yet, as we now see, such a career opportunity is plainly impossible. That little glimmer of mirth cupped in the hand of an eighteen-year-old boy is now nearly extinguished. What seemed within such easy reach then is now in-your-face complex.
But the value system that underlies that old crusade is not at all gone. To paraphrase a recent statement made by Linda Chavez, erstwhile Secretary of Labor: â€œI believe that I would have made an excellent Minister of Pleasure.â€
I look forward to hearing about your manifest destiny on Strawberry night.