ABSTRACT
When one is invited to address a Centennial gathering of graduate compatriots, the strong inclination is to say something cosmic. You will be happy to hear that I have fought that inclination and conquered it. What I have to say is concerned with more terrestrial issues. It is only fitting, on an occasion such as this, to touch briefly on one’s initial experiences at being imprinted on Iowan psychology. When it came time to select a graduate school, I went to my trusty undergraduate advisor and asked, “Where are the stone tablets of psychology?” He replied without any hesitation, “Iowa, of course.” To dispel any misgivings about a distant migration to the Midwest, he enumerated the renowned credentials of the Iowa faculty. As I departed from the University of British Columbia to Iowa City, my advisor’s parting counsel was that Iowa is a distinguished but tough place. It was clear from his characterization that the Iowa Psychology Department was not Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood. It was, indeed, an intellectually lively and demanding place where major theoretical issues were pursued with a passion. It was refreshingly free of colorless eclecticism.
