I didn’t finish college.  There, I said it.  There are plenty of reasons and no excuses as to how I managed to complete all of the requirements for graduation except the big one.  I never completed my senior research project.

It can be awkward having a college degree hanging over one’s head for so many years.  People have all kinds of questions when they find out that I stopped one class short of a four-year liberal arts education, one final paper shy of a degree in History.  The thing is, I have some unanswered questions of my own.  The largest and most fascinating question being, “Why didn’t you just finish it?”

After much thought and the trying on of various theories for size, I have come to understand that although it may have been due to the effect of microscopic organisms in my brain, and it may have been a convenient plot device for my friend Andrew Blissenbach’s college memoir (some kind of metaphor for refusing to grow up most likely), there is a more cogent reason for my failure to launch.  I did not finish college because I was not yet too big to fail.

Eight years later I am a husband, a father, a homeowner, a caregiver, a volunteer, and a juggler.  I have been given a chance to finish what I started, to obtain the degree to go with the education, and I am grateful.

The project is going swimmingly, if you’re into swimming the English Channel that is: choppy, cold, and characterized by a grinding determination to finish the hard way.   Finally so far from land that it is impossible to turn back, the unseen anchors drop away.

The calendar is a clock, the days are ticking, and with the support of my families I am writing the best damned history paper I know how.  Wish me luck.