I am an old man, sitting on a hard bench, in a dark corridor, waiting for Cary, my attorney, to take me to a trial. This is my first trial, and I am pretty jumpy, even though I feel very innocent. I have done some of the things they will charge me with, but Cary and I believe the things I did were not crimes.

If you’ve been on a jury, you’ll know that the judge will tell them “Your job is to determine if the defendant did it, but not whether “it” is a crime. The court will decide what’s a crime and what’s not..”

Now you can see why I’d be a bit nervous. We’re counting on a jury to find me “not guilty” even though I did some things the prosecutor says are crimes. Cary says when the jury liberates a defendant who may have technically committed a crime, it is called “jury nullification”. She is not allowed to use that term in court, but she has to convince and empower the jury to do it without mentioning it by name. This will be a pretty cool trick, even for Cary.

She is coming down the hallway, looking straight at me with clear green eyes that lock right onto mine. She looks bold, confident, and slightly jazzed. As she approaches, her light brown hair wiggles just a bit, as she strides with a confident and rhythmic gait. If Sherlock were here, he might tell you Cary’s freckles and brown, athletic calves disclose a person with a strong tennis game. Maybe Sherlock could not deduce that she was a debate champ and played basketball in college, but, by the end of trial, he would guess that, as well.

Cary punches me softly on one shoulder, winks, beckons, and we head for the court room. I follow her like a loyal dog, observing that her gait is impressive from more than one angle.

Walking toward the court room, I flash back on an episode earlier in my life. They say your whole life may pass through your mind when you face death. Certainly, losing this trial could be a kind of death. Losing could even lead to an actual death.

——————-

Suddenly, I am back in my two weeks at college. As I tread on an ancient brick sidewalk, a few clouds and some breeze make it a lovely day. The elm trees are thinking about turning yellow and red.

was Kenyon College, is a small college in a cute small town with a good reputation, not far from home, and was affordable (at the time). I think I will study science and try to be like Ben Franklin or Tom Edison. Maybe I will invent useful stuff, learn to speak French, and impress pretty girls with my brains. Kenyon is not very big, so maybe I can play baseball. Though I am small and slow, I have quick feet and good hands, a middle-infield, glove man.

Maybe some girl will go for a scientist who plays baseball. I figure I only need one. It is 1961, and a song called “Angel on My Shoulder” is playing in my head. A cute young singer (Shelby Flint) is suggesting there is a terrific someone out there looking for you, just as you are looking for her. She will wait for you, recognize you, you will recognize her, and life will be good. In 1961, I believe this very strongly.

Thinking about it, I realize that, today, in 2025, nobody is singing songs about playing it straight while you look for your true love. Why is that? Compared with 1961, you could almost say that nobody in 2025 is singing songs about ANYTHING. To further contrast Shelby Flint’s 1961 love song with current tunes, it is possible to understand every single word she is singing. That’s not happening today!

Back on the brick sidewalk, I am approaching Hallowell Hall, the music building, for for an interview with the symphony conductor and band master, Stu Ling. In the building, I find Stu’s door # 117, and knock. He greets me and invites me to sit.

“Dr. Ling”, I say, “I played the French horn in concert band in high school, and studied with Roy Evans of the Cleveland Symphony. I would like to audition for a chair here.”

“Well, you can do that, but you don’t have to. We always need more French horn players in both the orchestra and band. You could just sign up and show up. We will have a chair for you.”

“Which chair would it be?”

“Probably 3rd or 4th chair.”

“What if I wanted to be 2nd or 1st chair?”

“Are you a music major?”

“No. I thought about it, but I think I want to study chemistry. If I wanted to be a music major, I probably would have gone to Cincinnati or Oberlin.”

“Well, I don’t think you can be 1st or 2nd chair here, unless you’re a music major.”

“What if I turned out to be the best French horn player around?”

“It doesn’t matter to us. You’re not going to play solos or have a personal recital here unless you’re a music major.”

I was getting the point. Stu didn’t care how good I was. Maybe I was glad I was not going to be a music major here, or anywhere.

—————-

Heading back to my room, I stop off at the TUB (temporary union building) for a milkshake, and, maybe, some fries. The TUB will be our student union facility until we can afford to build a real student union building.

Walking into the TUB, I spot Kenny Slater and Marianne MacQueen sitting across from each other in a booth. I approach, thinking she probably doesn’t want to be alone with Kenny, and it will be easy to join them. Kenny may not like it, but he will accept it. Marianne has big eyes. I like big eyes. Maybe she will like me. Maybe she has a “penny in her pocket” and “an angel on her shoulder” like Shelby Flint.

They smile good naturedly, and I sit next to Kenny. No need to pressure Marianne. I can better look into her big eyes if I sit across from her.

I start by telling them that I can’t be the first chair in the symphony or band, because I am not a music major. They don’t care much about that. Kenny is thinking about winning her over, and she is likely thinking about what she will be doing later. On the juke box, we’re listening to the Righteous Brothers sing “You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feeling”. It’s a good love song for a loser, but not a good one for Kenny and Marianne to get started on.

Since we don’t have a real student union building, the administration is giving us free plays on the juke box in the TUB. Anyone can play their song for free. The next song on the juke is Stewball. It’s Peter, Paul, and Mary singing about a famous race horse, who always wins the big ones. Some guy bets against Stewball, and it haunts him the rest of his life. He loses his money betting against Stewball, and ends up as a crook, in jail. “If I’da bet on old stewball. I’d be a free man today.”

Folk music is huge right now, and everyone is liking Stewball. (To me it seems weird to write a song in 3/4 time abut a race horse. Horses rarely waltz.) When I get up and go to the juke box, I notice the flip side of Stewball is a song I’ve never heard of called The Cruel War.

Back in the day, the flip side of a record is usually lousy, because people buy a lot of single “hit records”. The record company figures if they put two good songs on the same disc, they are giving two for one and leaving good money on the table. The thing is, many record executives can’t tell a good song from a bad song, so I decide to play The Cruel War.

It turns out to be better than Stewball, and becomes an all-time favorite that I still play in 2025. It’s a very romantic ballad about a girl who wants to pretend to be a man, and dress up like a soldier, so she can go along with this guy she is deliriously in love with. Besides its romantic nature, the song features Mary, Peter, and Paul singing a trio in close harmony, kind of a chorale, instead of taking turns soloing as they usually do. The PPM close harmony is a knock-out for me, like some of the best Kingston Trio close harmony songs, and I groove on it.

Now, I reflect, and realize The Cruel War is another 1961 song that is unlike anything available in 2025. Like Angel, it’s tuneful, you can understand every word. It’s about a girl who actually wants to dress up like a boy, get dirty, and risk her life just to hang out with the guy she really loves. I wondered whether The Cruel War is a “true folk song” (or one like Kisses Sweeter Than Wine that was written, between sets, in a bar rest room in Greenwich Village). (I learned iin 2025 Cruel War actually comes from the English Civil War (time of Cromwell). It doesn’t matter, because it’s a great song that expresses the value of love between a man and a woman, and considers the price a couple might pay to stay together. And, it’s sung in a beautiful, perfect harmony, like a chorale.

As it turns out, Kenny and I go back to our rooms, while Marianne MacQueen goes on to a date with Walt who will become her boy friend for a long, long time. So, she had an angel on her shoulder … but not for me.

Walking again on the bricks and back though the trees, I think about all the things I have learned during my first weeks at college, every one of them a BIG CHANGE from what happened in my high school back home.

First, I learned the Music Department doesn’t really care if the best horn player is in the first chair or not.

Second, I learned that my teachers seem more interested in their subjects than they are in their students. This is very unlike high school where teachers definitely cared more about their students than they did about their subjects. A corollary to this is that my college teachers don’t seem to care that much whether the students actually learn stuff, whereas my high school teachers cared a lot.

Third, I have begun to notice that the successful, motivated students are very focused on how to get grades, versus just learning the subject, and trusting the system. In high school, most kids figured if you learned the lessons, you would get the grades. It didn’t occur to us to second guess the exam questions, then focus on the exams, as opposed to just trying to learn the subject.

Fourth, I learned that professors in the School of Religion generally don’t believe in God. This is a pretty big shock to me. I am struggling to find a reason why you would dedicate your life to studying something you don’t actually believe in. Later, I found out why, and it makes a little more sense.

There is more stuff I learn after the first week about this new world of college, but, now, Cary and I are headed into the court room.

——————————————————————————

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