The Sunday Eight O'Clock/What?
WHEN I was an undergraduate in college and used to go home for the summer to work up a little physical enthusiasm on the farm, Cornelius O'Donnell, a shrewd old Irishman who lived down in the Dutch Flats and with whom we used to exchange work during harvest time, was wont regularly, after he had greeted me and inquired if I were "still down there in college," to propound the question, "Well, what are you goin' to make o' yourself?"
I am not sure that Cornelius thought that in the transformations that go on within college walls it is possible to construct a delicately wrought silk purse out of a sow's ear, but he had the feeling that any serious minded and reasonably intelligent young fellow who was willing to put in four years of good hard work could mould himself into any desired shape—could make out of himself, almost anything. And he was right.
I have wondered often as I have seen each year the hundreds of new men entering college, what their individual ambition is—what they want to make of themselves. I heard our President say not long ago that it is foolish for a man to waste his time in learning in college what he could pick up at the "Corners"; he should seek something worth while.
Some fellows are satisfied with small accomplishment in college—to be the best dancer on the campus, or the keenest fusser, or the most adroit pool player or the most notorious loafer, or, without scholastic excellence, to shine in some undergraduate activity. They are setting for themselves a low standard.
My old German teacher used to say that one can buy anything from the gods if one is willing to pay what it costs. It is possible, I believe, for every healthy young fellow to accomplish any reasonable ambition and to make himself about what he wishes. The price of such accomplishment is not infrequently high; it means high ideals, sacrifice, and hard work, and self-control, and self-discipline.
I come back to the old question. What are you going to make of yourself—you who are already some distance along the course? You have the materials and the opportunity to make almost anything you desire. You can become a rounder or a man of stable, reliable character; you can develop into a commonplace loafer who wastes his hours in, playing Kelly pool or penny ante, or you can become a real student who cultivates careful speech and broad interests and habits of self-control, and who does his daily task excellently.
It is up to you; you'll never again have so good a chance as now to make something of yourself.
September