After 50 Years, I’m Not Keeping This Secret

“It’s winter quarter, my second year at the University of Chicago. I’ve been called in to see the dean on this frigid morning, and he is pissed off. As I fidget, he shows me a letter he says I wrote asking for time off from school after an unspecified summer illness. The letter makes no mention of what actually happened that summer and fall, my hospitalization and treatment for mania . . .”