Retirement reverie, 3--My students--lots of hugs

Students--why I teach and hugs.
Lot of hugs and I didn't get to see everyone, alas, or get photos of everyone I wanted. But, here are some of the best--Photos by Lauren Bieri. Yes, I know, they could be cropped better. Just trying to stay on schedule.

From OSU days...Richard Mize and Lynne Baldwin Matzell

Steve Curry, USN (Ret.) drove up from Houston

Mark Zimmerman and Zach Nash who masterminded the paper

Kelley Chambers and Heidi Centrella

Dr. Angel Riggs, OSU prof

Amy Welch, CPA Association PR wizard

Jennifer Palmer and Marta Burcham

Sara "Brat" Cowan

Harold Story and Meredith Zimmerman

Heide Brandeis

Current students...Misty Jordan, Jessica Phillips

Elizabeth Spence of The Vista

Ashley Trattner

Cassidy Jackson

Jim Hulsey

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….

Misty memories

Misty memories, 9" by 12" watercolor, 140 # Fabriano Artistico, #12 round sable brush

Mountains rise in my memory,  mysteries early in the mornings when mists rise  and reflect dawn's colors.
Spring thoughts from the Great Plains, thinking of times and places far away.

Retirement reverie--Part 2--The fam, & surprises

(Photos and stories on my colleagues, my students and the press coming next.)

Two family surprises awaited me at the retirement reception last week at UCO. 

I knew my daughter-in-law Kerin Clark and three granddaughters were driving up from San Antonio, since my oldest son, Vance,  was working in the U.K. And I hadn't heard from my son Travis, the Rock Mountain man. 

He walked in the door just as the reception was getting  underway. 

And then Kerin got Vance to greet me and the crowd by face time on the phone. My other two, daughter Dallas and son Derrick, simply couldn't get here because of conflicts and distance. 

Most of these photos need no cutlines. Photos by Lauren Bieri, Mark Zimmerman, Susan Clark, Dez Hill.

Alexx, me, Kerin, Susan, and Neysa, Sarah and Katherine

The booth, chapter 1, the story retold

Ye olde, and actual, cribbage board of "The Booth"

"…cribbage...a game of cards and counting and moving pegs in holes endlessly around a board…somewhat like teaching in college, and certainly like being an administrator, other than it was fun." 

From 2009, on the blog, The Booth, chapter 1, because these words have high import

Chapter 1

And on the first day of the booth, commencing at 4 p.m. one sunny fall day, which was unremarkable and unmemorable to the profs as the years passed, they joked and the Illidge taught the Clark how to play cribbage…a game of cards and counting and moving pegs in holes endlessly around a board…somewhat like teaching in college, and certainly like being an administrator, other than it was fun. As the afternoon unfolded, with only grading to be done for tomorrow, the two shared war stories. Under the watchful eye of the bosmy student-bartender however, they would not share their preferred refreshments of vodka on one hand, and rum and coke on the other, which helped them forget the frustrations and stresses of higher education.

Lo, the Illidge, since he knew the rules, soundly thrashed the Clark in the card games, though the cards, dealt repeatedly for two hours, perchance did get sticky from their glasses’ condensation circles.. And in spite of several games and matching drinks, after generous tips, it is well reported that both were able to drive home safely, vowing to return. 

Henceforth, though they knew it not, the one-sided results of the card games, as well as their exclusive occupation of the booth, would not always be so.

On the morrow, as was their habit, they arrived early in the less-than-august halls of the university, yea, before most academics and administrators had even heard alarm clocks. It was, as it were, an unsaid competition between them, to see who would be first to start the coffee. Whoever was second, even at 7 a.m.,  would be greeted with insults, as in “It’s nice you came to work this afternoon."

Then they would sit, in the pre-dawn darkness of the day, office lights not turned on, sipping coffee, dozing, sighing, thinking, occasionally exchanging words, but not constantly yammering as women, about issues and events of the day, but mainly enjoying the silence, the quiet. Until of course, the sun slowly came up, illuminating the aging clock tower of the university with its hands slowly, if ever ticking, as time slid by. Then the Queen bee of the department arrived, early as was her habit, unlocked the department office door, flipped on the lights, to the dismay of the optical pupils of the professors, and their outcry.

Lo, then the Illidge exclaimed to the fair Queen, even boasting, about his previous afternoon’s conquest of the Clark in cribbage. And the Clark could only cower that first day. And the Queen, with the exalted reputation of Dr. Sump, did nothing to assuage the stories, nor mitigate, nor even lessen them, much less deny them. So then the word of the Illidge spread, abetted by the Queen's royal reputation and humor, that there was this spot, this time when there was respite from campus control, from inane dithering, from the Clark’s type-A attitude—a veritable air-conditioned, and thoughtful oasis in the midst of Oklahoma aridity.

To be continued…