Whenceforth White Privilege

    I found a stowed-away carton of old books yesterday.  One of the volumes is "The Pedagogue"  1960 yearbook for what is now SUNY Albany.  I had never gotten my copy: this is my sister's.  As I remember, the shipment came in late in the year, and had to be picked up at Brubacher Hall, walking distance, but quite a hike, from the academic buildings.  Dorothy had reason to go there, and picked up her copy, but they wouldn't release mine to her because she didn't have my student ID card.  Neither of us had any spare time because we were dependent on a narrow window of access to transportation, and I didn't have the time to go there.  I didn't mind a whole lot, though the cost of the yearbook had been deducted from my account.  Truth be told, I didn't even know our pictures were included in the book. 
    But today I sit on a lawn chair in front of my house and look at my college yearbook for the first time.  Indeed, our pictures are in the book, in the graduating seniors section, not on any of the activities pages.  All we did during the 4 years of college was study and travel to get there.  That consumed our lives. 
   There were over 300 students in our class when we enrolled, the largest class ever accepted at the time. I don't know how many made it to graduation; at our very first class convocation, in the packed auditorium, the dean told us to look to  our right and then to our left, and said one of that three would not be here past the first year.  There wasn't room, he said. Back in the late 50's and early 60's, the State University at Albany was a very competitive school, one of the most difficult to be accepted at. It was ranked very high academically.  It was also strictly an institution for education.  Moreover, there was no tuition;  there were class  fees and enrollment charges and books to buy.  But it was a very attractive package even for students of means, many of whom planned to transfer to a more prestigious (and costly) college to graduate from.
    I look through my yearbook, at least a few hundred graduates, and not a single "person of color."  I scan through the pages of sports and activities, including  an all-white basketball team, and finally see one Afro-American male in one of the fraternities.  I seem to remember his being in student government.  He must have felt very exceptional, or very lonely.