Episode 7 has arrived. I’m still grasping for the perfect title. I spent a couple hours laying in bed staring at the ceiling trying to come up with a title that didn’t sound pretentious. Maybe I’m over thinking this.
When I think about college the first image that comes to mind is seeing my English professor in a Speedo suit standing knee deep in a pond. The years had withered his flesh. It hung crepe like from his arms and thighs. His sparse and silvery chest hair gleamed in the sun light. I was enthralled and repulsed. Of course he was embarrassed when I started laughing. I suppose I was lucky that he was so hurt that he never spoke of the incident. He kept his distance and I passed the class. I’ve never told anyone about this before but it was a long time ago and I’m pretty sure he’s dead. I had never planned to go to college. My escape plan to join the Peace Corp or the AmeriCorps was thwarted because they wanted people with training and some sort of college education. In a scramble I had to rethink my decision to be done with formal education. My parents tried hard to steer me to the in-state schools. I wasn’t being stubborn out of spite or lack of sensitivity to the costs. What I wanted was to get as far away from the memory of my public education as possible. What that meant was a private school preferably half a continent away, although my not-so-secret desire was to study in Europe. The compromise was a small Catholic College not too far away and not too expensive. It was more of an education than my parents ever imagined.