One thing I have never claimed to be, nor do I particularly aspire to, is "cool". When I was in college, I studied hard, worked hard and made good grades. My primary extra-curricular activity was dancing with an Appalachian clogging group called the "Hoorah Cloggers", an endeavor I still engage in on occasion.


Earlier this week, I had the opportunity to dance at my old alma mater, once at an International Street Fair and twice as live demonstration for an Appalachian Studies class. Like I said, I know that clogging is not necessarily the hippest thing going these days, but surely having a live band and group of dancers in your classroom would be at least vaguely entertaining. Not so for today's college student. I have never danced for a more unappreciative, dead pan group of people. I was especially shocked by the one girl who sat in the very front row and never once looked up from her crossword puzzle, even though due to the close quarters our twirling skirts came very close to swiping her newspaper off her desk. I can only hope she shows her teacher a little more courtesy than that on a regular class day.

Oh well, you can't please all of the people all of the time. The real blow to my self esteem came a lot closer to home. When I got back to my house, exhausted after my third clogging gig in four days, I stopped in the yard to talk to Wilson. He was sleeping in some tall grass, so I squatted down and called him over to me. My first peppy "Come here Wilson" got no response. A second attempt got me a raised head and a long yawn. It wasn't until the fourth or fifth try, when my tone had ceased being peppy and turned more commanding, that Wilson finally got up and slowly, as if utterly bored, meandered over to me. He had barely reached me, however, when something in the woods grabbed his attention and he was off. I can handle not being cool enough for college students, but it is a sad day when you're not cool enough for a beagle.