“So what’s ‘Houghton’?”

(“HO-tin;” as in “hoe,” not “how” or “who”)
That’s my good friend *****, a custodian at the Canandaigua YMCA, pointing at my teeshirt.
“It’s where I went to college,” I said; “about 75 miles south of Rochester in the Genesee (“Jen-uh-SEE”) valley.
As a matter fact, I’m first in my family to earn a college degree, although my father coulda done it, except he was Depression, when the imperative was to Get a job.”
“Well, all I did was high-school,” ***** said. “After that lay low and stay outta trouble.”
“So I graduated college,” I said. “La-dee-dah!”
I don’t lord that over people. I can’t. Too many of my best friends are non-college.
It’s been that way all my life. One of my best friends during my college summer job was illiterate.
Smart as a tack, yet illiterate.
My parents convinced me I was stupid and rebellious. As a result, I’m a “bleeding-heart Liberal” (Gasp!), even worse a DEMOCRAT (Double-gasp!).
Often college-graduates are elitists. Maybe they were groomed to be that way.
Not this kid.
Once while driving transit bus in Rochester, a group of young hot-shot lawyers badmouthed cripples in wheelchairs crossing the Genesee River on Main Street.
“They belong in the river,” one snapped.
“There, but for the grace of God, go you and I,” I said.
Shut ‘em right up! They picked the wrong bus-driver.
I’ve never regretted attending Houghton. It seemed more interested is shaping my values — than preparing me for employ.
It was the first time I wasn’t badmouthed. Adult authority figures valued and solicited my opinions.
My slightly younger sister (deceased), who also attended Houghton, but only two years — she didn’t graduate — says I “flowered” at Houghton.
So when I returned home after four years at Houghton, I walked out. I’d had enough. I wasn’t constantly badmouthed at Houghton.
Off to Rochester I went, 360+ miles from constant badmouthing.
And much to my hyper-religious father’s dismay, I didn’t return “the Prodigal Son” — “slay the fatted calf, etc.” (To which I always add “What does the ‘fatted calf’ think?”)
So yes, I graduated college.
But it meant more than “graduating college.”

• For 16&1/2 years (1977-1993) I drove transit bus for Regional Transit Service (RTS) in Rochester, NY, a public employer, the transit-bus operator in Rochester and environs. My stroke October 26th, 1993 ended that. I retired on medical-disability. I recovered well enough to return to work at a newspaper; I retired from that 11 years ago.
• “Home” was Wilmington, DE.