Older and Wiser

One great expectation of being in Grad School that has completely come true is that of professor performance. In only my first semester, I've already been exposed to three excellent teachers. Martha Lou is great and completely disarming with her east-Texas accent. Also, she bleeds Green and Gold, just like me. Dr. Shushok is awesome, as expected. This week he facilitated what might have been the best classroom "workshop" and interactive-roleplaying experience I've ever experienced on Monday.

Then there's Dr. Robert C. Cloud. And he says his middle name, as if he were a General of old. Robert C. Cloud -- or RCC for short-- is the master of the dramatic teaching form; the commander of the 3-second pause. He has a way of literally reminding our class how smart and good looking we are at every meeting. He will take us from tears to laughs in the "flick of a cricket's leg."

I don't remember my grandfather. One died years before I was even conceived and the other, my namesake, died when I was very young. I remember tiny bits, I guess. I remember looking at a cartoon in a Sesame Street book and seeing a portrait on the wall of Bert's father and thinking I was reminded of Grandpa Veith. (He kind of had a pointy head). I remember after he died of a heart-attack giving my Grandma "hug-attacks". I remember Pipe smoke, but I don't really remember him in the flesh.

I guess I've had other Grandfather types. There was PeeWee Hestilow, the Brooks Hall night monitor for 14 years-dammit. PeeWee was the kind of person I thought I'd meet when I moved to Texas. From his silver handle-bar mustache to his Bryl-creamed hair, the man fit the part. He wore "cowboy shirts" adorned with the occasional longhorns or cow skull that were so starched with such vehemence that many of the S.P. Brooks staff were sure that's what kept him up right at times. He wore the Wranglers, tight and cowboy style. With that cramped of an environment, its a surprise he had 4 kids. Funny story- PeeWee had a set of keys he always kept locked up in the office locker. And on those keys he had a wooden peg attached to the keyring. For the life of us, we had a hell of a time trying to figure out its purpose. And then one night we saw him walk his rounds. PeeWee's Wranglers were so tight, that he couldn't fit his keys in his pocket, so he would just stick the peg in. To us, it was like watching two Pandas mate in the wild, you knew it happened, but you just never thought you'd see it. Seriously, I know how Jacques Cousteau must have felt.

I'm not a big sleeper, so many a late-night hour was spent hearing how good we rich "kids have it" and playing dominoes with the Baylor DPS officers as they'd stop by to "stretch their legs". I miss PeeWee a lot. He had a particular kind of wisdom one can only procure through a divorce, four boys, "tank-bustin' in Korea" and a wife named "Kitty". I remember the night PeeWee tried to talk Andrew Telep and myself into buying $800 Ostritch-skin Boots using the logic that if we spend $100 a year on "tenny-sneakers" --which I haven't spent in 2 years-- and his boots have lasted 20 years then it must be a good deal! Ahh, PeeWee. The world needs more of you.

But now I have RCC. RCC challenges us in a way we'd never thought he could. He has a way of engaging each and every one of us in class with every word he speaks. His clear-blue eyes have a way of finding every other set in the room when he speaks, demanding their attention -no- fixation. And every time he says "now listen to RCC on this one..." We are all rapt in concentration, fixed upon his every word.

Lately he's been reading to us at the end of every class and I can't help but feel as I might have felt --could I better remember-- when my Grandfather read to me. Last night, when I felt his raspy voice wash over me, I was taken to a different place:the bookbag sitting in my lap became my teddy bear, "chipmunk", and my jeans and Doc's were "footsie pajamas." For only a moment, I was little again and my life lay completely ahead of me. RCC made me feel as though I had all the potential in the world and that my life is but a book yet to be written. One can imagine my shock when I realized it was all true.

I cannot wait for Tuesday next.