After spending a number of rather aimless years in Alaska, I came to the University of Chicago to do graduate work in religious studies, social theory, and philosophy. I live here now—a couple of blocks from Obama’s old (very old!) residence—with my wife, Amy, our domestic partner, Lindsay, and our eight-year old daughter, Carly (a.k.a. “the peanut”)—together with, on most weekends, my two kids by a previous marriage, Sam and Katie, aged eighteen and sixteen. I’m an instructor at the university, where I teach primarily social science and “great books,” along with teaching philosophy in what’s called the Odyssey Project, a non-profit program that provides college-level education to low income adults—which Amy directs. When I’m not teaching, I’m usually trying to catch up on reading, hanging out with the family, watching movies (we occasionally do courses on philosophy and film), or else seeking solitude and distraction through long workouts—either in the gym or biking along the lakefront (in cotton, not lycra). I’d also like to write one more book before I die—something about why true philosophers are almost never fat.
I don’t carry a cell phone, “do lunch,” count calories—or play golf. From time to time, I enjoy buying a pack of cigarettes and smoking for a day or two—just for the hell of it.
I can’t say that I recall my high school experience with any particular fondness, but it was certainly formative. Like many of us, I suppose, I sometimes think I’ve spent most my adult life defining myself against the person that my childhood and adolescence made me, with only limited success. I would like to believe that that’s behind me now. As I enter this last phase of my life, I feel as if I understand a few things better than I did before—and, like Sisyphus, I imagine myself happy. All that remains, beyond getting the kids through college, is to die well.
I’m not going to be able to make the reunion, but I would be happy to hear from anyone who cares to contact me.
My best to all,
Charles
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