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“Welcome, ” she said. “Your ma’s going to be just
fine. And won’t she be some happy to see you.”
I hung up, then scribbled a note saying what had
happened and where I was going. I asked Hector Passmore,
the more responsible of my roommates, to call
my adviser and ask him to tell my instructors what
was up so I wouldn’t get whacked for cutting—two or
three of my teachers were real bears about that. Then
I stuffed a change of clothes into my backpack, added
my dog-eared copy of Introduction to Philosophy, and
headed out. I dropped the course the following week,
although I had been doing quite well in it. The way I
looked at the world changed that night, changed quite
a lot, and nothing in my philosophy textbook seemed
to fit the changes. I came to understand that there are
things underneath, you see—underneath—and no
book can explain what they are. I think that sometimes
it’s best to just forget those things are there. If
you can, that is."

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