It Is I, Yaro, With a Stream.

I miss Professor Myra Adele Logan, who pioneered the "stream" as a valid and energetic form of missive on these pages many many months ago. I found her quite charming, and have missed her lovely avatar and even lovelier take on the profession. I offer a stream today in hopes she occasionally visits us here and will know I was thinking of her.

• I would estimate that nobody enjoyed Fabsun's profane version of me more than I, Yaro, did. I even shared the contents with Mrs. Yaro, and she said, "That is, without doubt, a rather nutty crew of colleagues you travel with, Yaro." I thank Fabsun for including me in the fun of a wondrous set of April Fool's postings. It was all very clever and they shook my insides so much during a lonely office hour that a stray student peered into my office to see if perhaps my labored wheezing was the beginning of Yaro's last episode on campus.
• I have been apprised of the desperation of American actor Charlie Sheen recently. It was quite disturbing. I was always a fan of his father, especially the fine television series The West Wing, which I now own in a digital format and which we watch every now and again.
• A large mulberry tree near my office is spewing the remnants of its rebirthing, and those items make me sneeze continuously unless I close my office windows - something I am not wont to do. Yet, my barrel chest aches, and my nose has run all during my morning preparations. Spring, it is said, sometimes blooms "recklessly," and that is what is happening here to me, Yaro, now.
• My young freshers (only 13 left of 18 who began this term) put up quite a fight yesterday concerning the tug they feel between their allegiance to the ideas they learned in high school and the pathways I'm trying to make them take now. One lovely young woman said, "Everything I have learned in the secondary institution has been false. I am thunderstruck." I tried to let them all know, not just the one young woman so stricken, that indeed there are new things to learn, new passages. That our university, in fact, is determined that they continue academic growth while here. It is not, I almost said out loud, merely a place of recreation and social functions. It is, indeed, school of an advanced variety. But I bit my tongue. I believe they know that inside.
• A colleague, well meaning, I am sure, has suggested that my graduation regalia is too worn to be a part of this year's festive ceremonies. This occurred while a young man visited our department to measure some new faculty for caps and robes. I took umbrage at my colleague's suggestion, as this particular garment has seen me happily through a variety of commencements and graduations. Yet, I took it home to Mrs. Yaro. She said it was not in such a terrible condition, but she did say - much to my chagrin - "Yet, Yaro, we might endeavour to let out the material by a margin." I can tell you that I withstood my desire for a second serving of cobbler after dinner, and I trust that will be that.

I send you all my best wishes 

as a lovely weekend approaches. 

I am yours,

Yaro