When I went away to college, I chose to go to a large school in a state other than mine in an attempt to disappear into 20,000 coeds and never again see the tormentors of my adolescence. These were the popular and perfectly mean girls, the ones who drove quiet girls like me headlong into the comforting arms of dusty books.
If you lived in your head at that age, as I did, the campus library was your refuge. One person during those years reached in and planted something that would take decades to flower. She was, of course, a writer.
Since I didn’t know a soul at this large university, I volunteered for a campus club to make friends. That’s how I ended up one winter evening shivering outside on the steps of the student union, waiting for the night’s famous speaker to drive up. My assignment was to escort her inside to the auditorium where her fans—certainly every English major and professor on campus—eagerly waited to hear Maya Angelou, author of a book that was required reading then, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings.
As showtime neared, Angelou’s car pulled up to the snowy curb. When its door opened, Angelou and a female friend exited, each wearing high heels, shining smiles, and, in a sight rarely seen on campus, head-to-toe fur coats in shades of chocolate and caramel. They—the coats and the women—were spectacular. I nervously ushered the pair inside and backstage.
在线翻译傻的跟狗一样,根本不能用啊