The Booth is a transformational verb--chapter 2

From August, 2009

...the higher education metaphorical circle cribbage board..."

Chapter 2

And on the second day, after enduring students who couldn’t spell, fuming about students who thought assignments were optional, and ruminating about students who thought average work was excellent, the duo gathered in the afternoon near the hive of the Queen bee to recuperate. They dropped into their chairs, with greatest of sighs and moans, seeking to wash away the greasy taste of the lunch and mediocre students with the bitter dregs of that morning’s coffee.

Alas, even after much commiserating, and exchanging understanding jocularity with the Queen, still persisted the sourness in their mouths. Whereupon, the Clark, because as chair he was supposed to have great ideas, suggested another trip to the booth, even though he knew he would probably again lose the battle of the cribbage board, but he knew the frivolity and ferment of the drinks would offset it. Up perked the ears of other equally frustrated faculty members—especially the German complainer, the public relations princess, and Friar John, the photographic monk--who happened to come into the office to kill time and postpone grading papers or avoid attending meaningless committee meetings.

" ...a pedagogical concept had transformational  learning possibilities..."

"Booth?" they asked—because they had already heard intimations of immortality from the Illidge’s boasting, and the Queen’s complicity--and when once explained and located, they affirmed that such an pedagogical concept had transformational learning possibilities, because, lo, all were as thirsty as the Ancient Mariner for more than the dregs of everyday life. Whereas, it was only 3 p.m., and early perhaps for liquid refreshment, the Clark, because he was chair and was experienced in scheduling meetings and wished atonement for his sins, proposed a 4 p.m. rendezvous with reality, and the bosomy bartender. The frustrated trio immediately departed the hive, heading to their offices to finish grading, turn off computers, clear desks, or otherwise waste time.

Then it was that the Illidge said, in his great and superior wisdom, “It’s five o’clock somewhere. Let’s go.” And with much insult, he did challenge the Clark to another embarrassing loss on the higher ed metaphorical circular cribbage board. And lo, forth they did sally to the booth, and the evening’s debauchery began.

To be continued….

A redbud tree grows, Booth, chapter 14, Redux

From 2009

Chapter 14 of a gospel of friendship

"The Call" came.

April 1, 2005.

"How do you go to a funeral for someone who is literally 'larger than life'?  A few days later, the  faculty and staff of the Journalism Department somberly headed north, in several groups,  to Wichita. There they found an elegant Catholic church, only a few blocks from The Illidge manse. 

The Illidge manse, and the Redbud tree

"First driving by the manse, on the red brick streets, under the towering elms, past the porch and memories, they arrived early.

"All but one of the group, The Afghan Traveler, were Protestant, and at first uneasy walking through the front doors. But there was a photograph of The Illidge, in a Missouri sweatshirt, to welcome them, and down front were two reserved pews, near the family, for the Okies.
"In came the Sweet Pea and the 'chillen' as The Illidge called them. Sons Bob and Andy, daughters Fran and Sarah and Little Liz, and lots of grandchildren. Behind the Oklahoma pews were many of the parishioners who knew The Illidge from long before his Oklahoma sojourn.
"Then the graying priest stood up, before Mass, and made the 'visitors from Oklahoma' welcome with the kindest of words. During his homily there were tears, and laughter, as it should have been. During Mass, as The Traveler stood, along with the parishioners, and the other Oklahomans were seated, but no longer strangers in a strange land, but welcomed.
"Afterward, downstairs a scrumptious meal was served, again with photographs of The Illidge on the tables. The Okies were greeted as members of the family, and there was considerable conversation and introductions.
"At last, the Okies left, headed back south, somber, but also telling stories, espcially about the ceiling fan.
"Instead of flowers for a funeral for someone dead, they combined funds and bought a living redbud tree from a Wichita nursery, which was planted in The Illidge's front yard.
"It still blooms every spring.
"Only one chapter,  an epilogue and a postscript remain in this narrative, which has become exceedingly difficult  for The Clark to write. The PR Princess this week told him that if Bob is reading it, he would say 'That's OK, Boss.' The Queen Bee said The Illidge, the jazz man,  might forgive The Clark for writing the previous rap. It accompanied the only retirement reception for a professor ever organized by the students at UCO. "

To be continued...

Interlude--The Illidge Rap

From September, 2009

Flashback, Written by The Clark for his retirement ten years ago:

Rap for Illidge
Illidge is the ad man
Bob’s gonna retire man
Illidge makes us sad man
Goin’ down to the wire man
Illidge is so bad man
Cause he’s the ad man
UH huh, uh huh, uh huh!

It’s no fad man,
Illidge is the ad man
Don’t make’m mad man.
Show up on time man
So this will rhyme man
Cause he’s the ad man
Uh huh, uh huh, uh huh!

Illidge is rad man,
His school’s Notre Dame’s man
Ad Hall of fame man
Don’t be a fool man
Illidge is so cool man
Cause he’s the ad man
Uh huh, uh huh, uh huh.

It’s the Illidge decade man
Won’t ever fade man
UCO’s been the place man
Where Illidge set the pace man
We’ll miss his face man
Cause he’s the ad man
Uh huh, uh huh, uh huh!

He’s got a Kansas pad man
Illidge gonna be missed man
Don’t be pissed man
Bob’s been feared man
It ain’t the beard man
Cause Illidge is the ad man.
Uh huh, uh huh, uh huh.

When we heard that Illidge
Was going back to his village
Just want to Loot and Pillage,
Don’t want to play no cribbage
Cause the ad man is Illidge

Don’t be a sap man
Lissen to the rap man
Illidge is the ad man.
Un huh, uh huh, uh huh.

Illidge is the aaaaaad maaaaan. Uh Huh!

"Booth" for Bob at Klark's Keep

Friends, neighbors, alumni, and those who are not--

Forsooth and yea verily

When in the course of human and no-longer-human events, tomorrow marketh the fifth earthly trip around yonder sun since Bob Illidge, the wit and soul of the old journalism department at UCO, decided to go keep God in stitches with his humor and wisdom and Missouri sweatshirt. Henceforth and in the passage of time, most of the  journalism department attended his funeral in Wichita, and we have a redwood tree growing in the front yard of his and Elizabeth's home.

Woe to those, but many did not know him, but have perchance  come to appreciate the parables we pronounce when we toast him when we meet at "The Booth," where his plaque doth still hang..

Accordingly, and whereas, in his honor, I'm calling a booth at my house this Friday, from 4 to 6. I'll provide two bottles of good Irish Catholic Whiskey, Jameson's, to toast him and our department, and to the "vagaries and vicissitudes" of the vernal victory.

Yea verily, if thou can make it, come and go, or just come, stay and then go, please inscribe to me by email, or other appropriate angel,  by  5 pm Thursday, April 1, the day he died.

If thou be a teetotaler, come anyway, I'll make a big pitcher of iced- tea, with a sprig of green mint to make it Irish. If thou wantest beer, or something else, bring it. I do not provide bottled water. If God had wanted water bottled, he'd have created plastic. Tap water, with ice is more Scriptural. The ionic cribbage board and green coffee cup will add to the "spirits" of the occasion.

If thou wantest chips and dips or other finger food, bring it, please. Let me know what thou willst bring if thou are coming.

If  thou needest instructions to Klark's Keep, let me know and the Clark Cartographic Society will promptly provide a hand-inscribed handy-dandy map.

"To Bob,"

Terry