Body Odor @ MindSay 
You know how nearly every class has that one creepy old guy that all the girls are scared of, and all the guys just wonder why he’s there in the first place? Hi, kids!
This semester marks my triumphant return to ECU. I last walked the hallowed halls of Brewster nine years ago in pursuit of a history degree. A series of poor choices, bad decisions, and outright laziness, however, allowed it to slip through my fingers.
I’m very fortunate that I have been able to come back and become that old guy I made fun of so long ago...and that you all make fun of now. Don’t worry, ladies, I’m really harmless; just a sad teddy bear (i.e., afraid of my wife).
A few things have changed since my first tour of duty at ECU. I still have to park 40 miles away at the football stadium, but, if memory serves, those hunting licenses we have to purchase in order to be able to park at the stadium are about $20 cheaper now.
I never had a professor nine years ago who didn’t think their class was the only one a student had, so they felt free to require 10 or 12 different books, expecting us to read them all, but knowing we wouldn’t. Those overpriced books I’ll never use again are even more overpriced now, but somewhere along the way our professors opened their eyes and took pity, and now I only have one class with more than three books.
A word about those books, ladies and gentlemen: no one’s going to hold a gun to your head and make you go broke at the bookstore. There’s this nifty invention called Amazon.com, and there are kind professors out there who will provide you with a list of texts if you just ask nicely. I didn’t purchase a single book at the Student Stores, and I saved $85. That may not sound like much in the grand scheme of things, but it’s two tanks of gas I don’t have to worry about, or dinner at Outback with the wife and a lot of Jack and Cokes.
Speaking of the Student Stores, something I’ve noticed now that I’ve grown older and fatter is that the distance between there and Brewster has grown by about a half a mile. I guess I’ll be buying blue books in bulk.
The bus ride from the stadium to Brewster hasn’t changed much, although I seem to recall the air conditioners on the buses actually working nine years ago before the onset of global warming. I was not surprised in the least, however, when, on my first day back on the bus, a kid with what Jerry Seinfeld referred to as B.B.O. sat down next to me, despite numerous empty seats all around us. 105-degree weather, no A/C, and funky armpits a pleasant bus ride do not make.
One thing that has changed is me. When I was at ECU the first time around, a lot of my current classmates were only eight years old. I had my chance and I blew it. I gave up on my dream of ever becoming a history professor who only assigns two books, and for nine years I worked a dead-end job I hated with no future in sight.
Now I’ve gotten a second chance, but at what cost? Nine years of my life and thousands of dollars I can’t afford (and without the benefit of financial aid).
Young people, make fun of the old guy all you want to, but pay attention to your professors too. Ask questions. Read every word of those overpriced books. Don’t start writing your papers at 4:00 in the morning on the day it’s due at 8:00 (been there, done that). Don’t screw up like I did. I’m lucky. Not everyone may be fortunate enough to get the second chance I did.
Stick with it. Do your best. And if you ever ride the bus with me, have the decency to put on some deodorant.
© 2007 by J.D. Lewis
Balanchine may be considered the master genius of 20th century ballet but Julia Adam's choreography is pretty damn amazing. Last night at the Newmark Theatre we saw Oregon Ballet Theatre do Apollo followed by Adam’s Il Nodo ( the knot) and I must confess I preferred Il Nodo. First of all, it featured my favorite dancer Anne Mueller and secondly it was a beautifully executed piece of visual whimsy. The dances don’t just finish up in amazing positions as in Balanchine, they move through space and fill the air with the shadows of where they just been and where they are going next.
Now the unwashed Portland masses were a whole other thing. I could choose between a man who smelled of garlic, wheezed and breathed through his mouth or a tall manic brute who smelled of too much alcohol and had an annoying habit of hooting and clapping so hard that I actually was getting tinnitus .. so i stuffed my left ear with tissue paper. His wife two seats over smelled as though she had not taken a bath in weeks. Do people in Portland think that since it isn’t hot and they don’t sweat a lot they don’t have to bathe?
My husband bemoans the fact that I have an olfactory system that rivals that of Madeline in the Fall of the House of Usher. But a great “nose” for things can enrich your life and sometimes prevent an early death by fiery explosion. This is important because years ago I came home late, the house reeked of gas and Jim was upstairs reading. The pilot light had gone out in our small apartment's range and the house was getting filled by the noxious gas. Am I being too dramatic?
On the nice side, a great sense of smell lets me taste more things, enjoy the most subtle of flowers and even on a hike tell me when we are near water ( if one can’t hear it) Ironically if I had to lose one of my five senses smell would be the one I choose because it is the least horrible to give up of five but it is also my most acute. ( although I do have a superb clarity for color too)
Anyway, every part of me seems sore this morning after too much gardening tumbles and working- planting woodland wonders while on my knees – in the rain no less. if one stops for rain in Portland nothing will ever get done. Today I intend to hand weed a section of the front garden and mulch the open beds and prune back a saxifrage so I can dig out for a small water hole I am making near some amazing stones in the front yard. But instead I watched a film and blogged. sigh.
The music is sublime, the voices strong and more than competent. So why did we leave early?
The man seated in front of us in the first balcony of the Keller smelled of feces. I first noticed him in the lobby, He was difficult not to notice, very tall. dressed as part clown and half street person. When he took the seat directly in front of us I caught a whiff and assumed he had passed gas. But when half way through the first act I found myself covering my lower face with a scarf or placing my fingers under my nose I knew it wasn’t gas. It was unwashed underwear or body and it was .. well.. suffice it to say it was disgusting. At intermission I asked an usher if there was another seat I could talk, whispering my problem to her. The house was full. My only options were to stay where I was, watch the opera on TV in the lobby or sit in the mezzanine and listen through speakers. I could have stayed home in my jimmies if that’s what I was going to do. So I asked Jim if we could leave early and he agreed- not happily. On the way out we scoped the taxis at the Heathman and decided I could take a cab home if this ever happened again. Next season is Carmen, Cinderella, Aida and Rosalinda. We’ll get better seats – maybe the price a person who doesn’t wipe his ass well won’t afford – we hope.
This afternoon we got the media stuff out of their boxes and decided where to place it in the gym. And this weekend I will going shopping for wall storage for cassettes and cd’s thousands of them. Hi Ho Steverino..
