Thank god for my time at Wellesley: a kid from small-town Ohio, I learned the enormity of what I didn't know, and a bit about how to rectify that. The towering buildings and heartbreaking landscapes; the Chapel, and the the choir (music); the daily carillon (as I recall); my startling introduction to works of art, and Bergson; breathtaking classes that opened up and then knit back together works of literature. Languages: German, French. Every single day was thrilling. You gave me Cambridge and Boston; bookstores -- foreign language bookstores! Museums. Additionally I realized that I'm gay (it was the 50's), a disorienting discovery with no help coming. I briefly spoke to one of the therapists regularly shipped in to tend to the young women; he told me "don't tell ANYBODY." I am fiercely grateful for those years, which provided a matrix from which to head out into a circuitous life of discovery about myself and about the world. I am no "success story" for you guys, but I love who I've become.