When I was an adjunct professor at Jackson County Junior
College in Gautier, Mississippi, I many times taught night classes. During the
summer of 1968, I taught English 101, and after studying several short stories,
I gave my students the assignment to write a short story. Why I did that, I’ll
never know. I couldn’t write one myself, so how was I to fairly evaluate what
they wrote?
I remember stumbling through almost all of them, trying to
sound intelligent as I read and graded and tried to be fair. And then I came to
the story that both surprised and disappointed me. One of my favorite students,
a handsome young man who (excuse me, please) was as dumb as a rock, had written
a beautiful story.
When I returned the stories at the next class meeting, my
students were happy with their grades and my comments, for the most part. The
writer of the beautiful story had a puzzled look as he read my comment: Please
see me after class.
He stayed after class, and I saw that same puzzled look on
his face. “Why did you want to see me, Miz Young?”
“Well, this is an absolutely beautiful story, but I’m afraid
it’s not yours. It was written by Edgar Allan Poe and is called ‘The Tell-Tale
Heart.’”
“It IS? I thought it sounded familiar when I wrote it!”
So why have I started this post with this story from so long
ago? Because what I’m about to write sounds familiar. I think I’ve written it
before! But I’m going to write it again.
I can think of three important times in my life when I said
something like, “I’ll never do that!” But I did.
The first time was when I was in college. My roommate and I
used to walk to the PO every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday after chapel, and on
the way, we passed a really decrepit looking two-story house on North Monroe
Street. We’d practically look the other way as we walked by, wondering who
would ever want to live there. Well, I’ll tell you who wanted to live there.
Frank and I did! After we were engaged and planning to marry, Frank
investigated and found that we could have an apartment in that house, Kell’s
Cottage, for free. All he had to do was renovate so that we’d have a nice place
to life after we married. And after he worked his magic on our apartment in
that old building, we had the prettiest apartment in town.
The second time actually precedes the first. I always said
that I’d never marry before I graduated from college; however, when I met Frank
Young, that promise to myself vanished. We met in February 1961, had our first
date on March 10 of that year, were engaged in July, and married in December.
Not a very long courtship, but a very long marriage. We’ll have been “hitched”
for fifty-four years on December 17, 2015!
The third began in the early ‘60s, when Frank and I used to
drive by Beulah School in Pensacola either on our way back to Mississippi
College after a weekend with my parents or on our way to Pascagoula, where we
lived after we graduated. As we drove by, we’d very snootily say, “We surely
wouldn’t let our children go to THAT school. It’s so run down!” Never say
never! We moved to Pensacola in 1969, and the house that we bought was in
Beulah district, and our sweet little girl started first grade there. Do you
remember the old saying, “You can’t tell a book by its cover?” Well, it surely
does apply to Beulah School. Both of our children received such a good
education at that little run down country school! The teachers were the best,
and there wasn’t a principal anywhere who was a good as Eugene Winters. He knew
every child in the school, knew exactly how to get in touch with his or her
parents, and could drive directly to the homes of the children.
I’m here to tell you that every time I said NEVER and then
gave in, I was blessed, truly blessed. We lived right in the house with other
ministerial students and their families, and they became our best friends (with
the exception of one couple, about whom I may write someday). Of course, I’m
blessed to have married Frank. He was and still is my best friend, and I can’t
imagine not being married to him. It was right for us to marry right when we
did. And Beulah was perfect for both our children and us. That’s where their
education began, and it was a very good start.
I’m surely not sorry that I broke my promises to myself!
2 comments:
Great advice. We never know what adventures the future will bring!
Your introductory story sounds so familiar. I pointed out to a student that I had found an essay just like hers on the internet, and she got big eyes, and say, "Ooh, that's scary!"
I said, "No, it is not. You copied it."
I like those nevers. I'm definitely glad you kept Frank.
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