Ohio University in Athens, Ohio, was where I spent my first four years in America, from 1974 to 1978. Memories of those early years and college days are still vivid in my mind, and I’d like to share a little anecdote with you.
But first, let me set the stage. The picture above is of the Class Gateway on campus, with beautiful College Green behind it. In early springtime you can walk through here and see college students sprawled out in shorts and T-shirts—or just bikinis—on the vast thawing lawn, soaking in the first rays of warm sunshine after the long Midwestern winter. That probably has something to do with Ohio U. often landing on some lists of most beautiful campuses.
But there are also other lists the school often finds itself on, not always as glamorous or desirable as some people might perhaps like. Ever heard of the Playboy Magazine’s Party School List, back in the day? Ah, yes. That one. My undergraduate alma mater made the list more than once during the 1970’s, all thanks to the lively action on the main drag uptown, Court Street, just a block away from the Class Gateway. The photos below depict the street, first back in the early 70’s, then now.
And guess what? By some strange twist of fate, I found myself at the epicenter of all that action, living in a studio on the upper floor of a building on South Court Street. Yes, moi! yours truly who, unfortunately, had neither time nor money to revel in such endeavors. How ironic, and what a terrible waste that was, you think? Such is the basis of my short essay titled “Close Encounter of the Missed Kind,” just published in the Louisiana Literature Journal, Spring 2023 issue. The journal doesn’t have an online edition, so I went ahead and created an electronic copy of the printed essay. I now invite you to browse it for some springtime fun read—in just a minute.
First, see the old black-and-white picture down below? Don’t look at it too closely yet, not until you’re done reading “Close Encounter” on line. This picture is an intrinsic part of the story’s ending, so you’ll have to come back and scrutinize it after you’ve read, and all the pieces will fall in place.
Another quick note before I go: My website has undergone some changes forced upon it by Blue Host (where it resides), and in the process it has lost most of its previous Facebook “Likes” and “Shares” along with a few other things. Don’t be alarmed. I’m aware of it and am working to fix all that—if I can.
Now, go read the online essay by clicking HERE then come back and stare at the picture up close. I hope the story brings you a chuckle or two.
Happy Spring, Passover, and Easter!
Great memories. You’ve come a long ways. Sometimes not having any money is even better. You appreciate the little things that others don’t see. I enjoyed your writing. Thanks for sharing.
Nancy, thank you for your nice feedback. Yes, I do miss those simple days!
It’s quite amazing how these life events of our youth stick with us forever. Your story jogged memories of my college years at Carnegie Mellon Univ. in Pittsburgh, during 1964-68. In my senior year I needed to help pay for my tuition as well as a newly purchased engagement ring for my beloved. I ended up working for my cousin, who was getting his PhD in Electrical Engineering, to gather data for his thesis. The only way I could do this was to work at night while I went to classes during the day. Since I was a commuter student, I had no place to stay near campus. So, I ended up sleeping under a lab bench in the engineering building once I finished working at night. That new habitat was established on the sly for a year with only my cousin knowing about it. Needless to say, it was a grubby existence subsisting on soup and RItz crackers, primarily. Playing my guitar, on the limited time I had to myself, maintained my sanity. I’ll never forget those days living as a caveman !
Hi John, so you were the original squatter! But it paid off handsomely, didn’t it. Look how you’ve turned out! Hats off to you, brother.
Jim, I very much enjoyed your recollection of the Ohio days over the bar. More than that, it’s insight into how dedicated undistracted effort can pay off to a bountiful life.
I once had a coworker tell me about another immigrant, for whom we had both worked in the past: “He came over here poor and smart.” It stuck with me. Smart is a short word for unrelenting dedication to an end.
Good story, but I go off on my own “take”.
Thank you, John. Good to hear from you. I look back on those simpler days with much fondness.