Progymnasmata

He was crass, funny, wise, and compassionate. And upon reflection, he was too easy. But he fueled in me a fiery passion for language and story that has yet to burn out, now 10 years since the last time that I sat in his class.

I think of his class as a campfire where stories, and the shared experience of telling them, made the edges of my mundane world glitter with the possibility of magic and divinity.

This entry (and the three to come) are dedicated to him.

Skol! Crass
One of the many distinguishing characteristics of this professor was that he always, always carried an open bottle of Diet Pepsi with him. He sipped his Pepsi frequently. . .in class, in the hallways, in his office, on the campus green. . .everywhere: sip, sip, sip.

Perhaps I was naive at the time (scratch that: I was naive), but I thought that he just really, really loved diet soda. Then, once, a few minutes before our Latin class was to begin, in a quick, single, fluid motion he cleaned an old lump of chewing tobacco from his lower lip and immediately replaced it with a fresh dip from a can of Skoal that had been in his front pocket. Then he took a sip of diet soda and began the class.

Seeing him replace his chew was a revelation of the obvious to me: he chewed tobacco all the time and every ounce of tobacco juice, he swallowed down with a sip of Diet Pepsi. The slight bulge of his lower lip seemed a simple physical trait before. Coming from the Rocky Mountains, I should have known that bulge from a distance of a 100 meters.

Thus it was that I noticed this amazingly hidden vulgarity and its ever-presence: at 8:00am mythology -- chew & soda; at 1:00pm advanced Latin -- chew & soda; evening chapel (it was Lutheran college) -- chew & soda. I once saw him and his wife at the grocery store on a Saturday afternoon: chew & soda. I never saw him spit or dribble a drop of tobacco juice. And I never saw him without the bulge in his lower lip. He was amazing.

So the college had this policy: "No tobacco use in the buildings." Yet here he was, one of the institution's favorite professors, violating this policy every minute he was on campus. His transgression was obvious for all to see; but his discretion was equally plain -- no one was burdened by his crass behavior: no spit-filled bottles, no rancid kerchiefs from his pocket, no worn-circles on his pockets from his tobacco cans. He was clean.

As a young college student, no combination of qualities could be as moving as these: he made me want to read and study more than any other professor and he showed me that a quiet, *self-sacrificing* disregard for inconsequential policy could be had in one stroke, in one character. He was geek and cowboy at once. He was inspiration.

Skol professor!

(*NOTE: usually one simple swallow of tobacco juice will make the first time user of smokeless tobacco sick to his or her stomach).