When we were bears at Berkeley

I had great plans for this column. I planned to call it “The After (College) Life,” quite cleverly riffing on the idea of future and, well, death. But the more I tried to contemplate my future, to look ahead and see myself employed and owning a television (with cable), the more I found myself glancing back over my shoulder to try to catch a glimpse of the bleak exterior of Evans Hall and the tall, wonderfully phallic Campanile.
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