I must confess that I have not done my part with respect to either of those hallmarks. I can recall attending only one-and-a-half reunions, and I have added only modestly to Princeton's bulging coffers. I lived in the present and the future and was busy with my family, work, and social life: reunions could always be deferred for another year, or even until another big reunion year, like the fifth or the twenty-fifth. Although I had great respect for Princeton and felt fortunate and proud to be an alumnus, I was never able to convince myself that the university with the largest endowment per student was the one that most needed my pittances. Thus, even though research universities have been my philanthropic priority, I gave very little money to Princeton.
By the beginning of his year, my perspective had changed. I had begun studying a relatively new program, in which one could set up a charitable remainder trust that would be commingled with the endowment and participate in its returns, which would be attractive to someone who seemed likely to live for many more years. As a retiree, I would have plenty of time to attend a class reunion, especially a fairly big one like the forty-fifth. Moreover, Susan and I had accompanied a group of classmates and wives to East Africa two years ago and had enjoyed their company immensely. I made hotel reservations and signed up for the reunion.
By the beginning of March, when I returned from South America and was diagnosed with cancer, I had already begun showing signs of cancer cachexia, which is "characterized by weakness, poor appetite, alterations in metabolism, and wasting of muscle and other tissues," to quote Sherwin Nuland from How We Die. I was in no shape for reunions, and my condition would have detracted from the high spirits of the occasion. So I cancelled my reservations.
Actually, I feel good enough today to have attended the reunion. Chemotherapy's temporary suppression of the cancer has reversed most of the signs of cachexia, and the debilitating effects of the chemotherapy itself have faded in the fortnight since it was last administered to me. Several classmates have told me that they will lift a glass in my honor, and I will reciprocate with the one glass a day that I am permitted until my surgery.
