When I was in high school I became very close with one of
the advisors of church youth group. His name was Tom, like mine, but he always
called me T.S., like my mother did. He was a great guy in that he did not ever
talk down to me. He had young sons but he brought me under his wing and spent a
lot of time with me.
Tom was a brilliant biologist, physiologist and an entrepreneur. My older sister, Melissa, has a reoccurring
injury in her ankle that can get aggravated or hurt at any time, even when she
just steps off a curb. I remember one time Tom came over to look at it. He applied
some black tape and asked for a hair dryer.
As he sprayed Melissa’s ankle with hot air you could see, like a mood
ring, exactly where she had injured it. He called the doctor, told him what he
had found and that he would bring him some things. Tom seemed to know all the
doctors and athletic trainers in town. As he was leaving I said, “Tom, where do you
get this stuff?” He just closed up his doctor’s bag, rubbed his moustache like
he always did, and said, “I invented it.”
Tom went to Kent State in the late sixties. He told me once
that he got his doctorate to stay out of the army because he did not want to go
to Canada like his brother did in the trunk of a Volkswagen. He figured either his deferments would run
out or the war would end before he had to go, but he would if he was called. As
it turned out, when he finally had to go to the draft office, they wouldn’t
take him, because he was older, in grad school, and his wife was pregnant with
their first child. They told him, “Appreciate it, but better here, than there.” He
also told me about one time later on when he was working on his thesis; right
after the poor kids were shot by National Guardsmen on the quad, students
bombed the building where he was working. He gathered all of his papers and some of his
experiments and fled the building. I can’t imagine what it was like to live in
those times but I am glad Tom was honest in telling me about them. He didn’t sugar
coat it at all. He also didn’t politicize it and I appreciate that. He just asked
“What do you think about that? What would you have done and why?” He was a
great mentor that way.
One winter night when I was at home reading I got a call
from my friend’s mom, worried about her son, David. She told me he had gone to
a party but she couldn’t find him. She asked me if I wouldn’t mind going out to
look for him, as her car was dead. In
those days I drove a 77’ Camaro that my dad let me use until I went away to
college and he could sell it. That night I went to several parties and places
looking for David. At one point I turned
around in the parking lot of an apartment complex. I lit up a cigarette and
promptly slammed into three lined cars that were parked there but covered with
snow. I must have been moving fast because I went up
on the trunk of the first one I hit. I
backed down off it and my first instinct was to look around and see if I could
run. My second instinct was to find my cigarette,
because it had come loose from my hand, and I was afraid I might blow up. Fortunately, it was out and resting in the
curve of the speedometer. I threw it out the window and went to find a
phone.
The first person I called from the convenient store was my
friend, Kevin, and I asked him to find David. Then I called my parents. They called the police, came and helped me
take of everything for the night, although they made sure I knew it was my
responsibility to take care of the rest.
I made sure David was found, which he was, and went back with my parents
to their friends’ house where they were attending a party. Tom was there.
When I came in, I said hello to all of my fictive aunts and uncles and
sat down at the kitchen table, sighing.
Tom came to me and started nodding his head that we should go out to the
three-season room.
When we got there we sat down and he pulled a beer out of
his pocket and handed it to me. He said, “You have had a rough night, haven’t
you?” I nodded and said, “Yes, Tom, I have.” I told him about what happened. He put his
hand on my shoulder. He said, “I know your parents are angry right now, but
they are happy you are alive and Carole is happy that you didn’t let her down
looking for David.” I said, “Tom, I am a
fricking moron.” He smiled and said, “T.S.,
no you are not. You are reckless but not a moron. People who care about things are
not morons.”
We sat for awhile, talked about Star Trek, which he loved, and
then Tom told me a story. It seems too precious to be true but I like it just
the same. He told me that when he first
started his graduate program in biology he went to a big hall filled with
students. On the stage was a table with a plant and a
hamster in a cage. The professor came in
a lab coat filled with knives in his pockets. The first thing he did was pull
one out start hacking the plant apart. Everyone laughed. He backed off for a second pulled out a second
bigger, sharper knife. “Let’s do the hamster now.” The room went silent. People protested and
started crying as he pulled the hamster from its cage. They screamed as he went
to slice it. He stopped just short, put
the animal in his pocket and said, “Class dismissed. This is your first lesson
in the study of life in all of its forms. Appreciate. Respect is respect; be it
plant or hamster or person.” The
professor then left the stage. As I say, that story is too perfect to be true but it always
stuck with me.
That night when Tom told
it to me, he took my empty beer can and told me to walk home. He said to me, “I have always liked you,
T.S., but you need to think about yourself and all that’s around you. You need
to figure out some things about yourself and what you’re going to do. What are
you taking care of and why?”It was a
long, lonely and cold walk home on Jones and Hassell Roads but I did it. I did think and I got his message.
I mentor a group of six seventh grade boys on Sunday
afternoons. They are great. We have a lot of fun, playing wall ball, and
talking about the highs and lows of our week. I love them because they are friends from
different worlds who take care of each other. We talk a lot about God, the
choices we make, and how we live our lives. They are not afraid to ask hard
questions and I am not afraid to answer them. They are all intelligent, clever
and give me great joy.
Tom did it for me. It’s the least I can do for someone else.
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