The Story of B and C - Part One

Once upon a time, when pterodactyls roamed the skies and wooden underwear was the rage, there was a young girl named BT. She had been sent to university in the Lehigh Valley to increase her skills, knowledge and broaden her horizons so that she would not experience the same fate as her mother. That is not to say her mother was not wise or loving, she worked hard to put all three of her children through higher schooling while their father, lost in greed, refused assistance of any kind. But that is another tale for another time. BT was not happy about leaving the farmlands that surrounded her home. In her mind there was nothing finer than listening to the wind whisper through the tall corn as she rode her bicycle on tree lined country lanes, gliding down the green hills listening to the birds (yes in those days she had thighs of steel) Sadly, the day came when BT left and began her new life among freshmen.

It is said that the freshman year is the toughest, for in that time there is much adjusting and awkwardness. BT adapted but made very few friends due to the fact that the university admitting board overbooked the enrollment and she was forced to live off campus at a seminary, to hang with the brothers so to speak. Luckily, her generous mother had given her The Scamp (a 1974 forest green Plymouth with a slant 6 engine that wouldn't quit) so that BT could commute to classes with ease and not be affected by bad weather. So BT began her schooling and learned the true meaning of "all nighters", chain smoking, bad eatting habits and the proper amount of caffine needed to keep a student running. She also learned the importance of certain classes; for example when a student was taking a class from a highly respected history professor is was not refered to as History of Europe is was refered to as, "I've got Dow at 8:00am this semester." or for art classes, "McGrath", and for theatre classes, "Callahan". It was a sign of respect for these instructors were the Intellectual Titans of the campus, the powerhouses of knowledge, people you didn't want to piss off while in their temple classrooms. Their wrath, scorn and dedication were legend. Stories of one of the Titans tossing a late student out of class were the fodder of every freshman's nightmares. BT had always been a lover of history and made the fateful decision to tackle a Dow class, this inspired awe in her fellow freshmen because they had not the courage to undertake the demands made by this professor. He did not tolerate tardiness and pushed his students to strain their brains...he busted balls. She finished his class with a B.
Encouraged with the flush of success she felt the need for a challenge, if she could handle a Dow, there would be no problem with a Callahan***. So second semester she enrolled in one of his courses and upon the first day of class her confidence flagged. The room was filled with the heady mix of Brute aftershave and the mellow smoke of unfiltered Winstons. A tall man, wearing a plaid flannel shirt and blue boot-like slippers (yes the kind you wear around the house) stood at the podium, a cloud blue smoke crowned his white haired head. His bi-focals were perched at the end of his nose and a lit cigarette was pinched between his fingers with the longest ash she'd ever seen. He gave a thoughtful glance as each student entered his temple of learning. He spoke and her jaw dropped. He bellowed, "OK you fuckers, I'm Callahan. Welcome to Public Speaking." You could've heard a pin drop in the stunned silence, no instructor had ever used that kind of language but it certainly got the attention of the students. BT was a bit worried; was she up for this kind of an adventure? A small voice in the back of her mind whispered, yes and she listened as he explained the syllabus, course reading and required submission of a journal...her mind skipped, did he just say submit a weekly journal? Yes, indeed he did. Inwardly she cringed, yes she kept a journal but allowed no one to read it and here was this old guy telling her she had to jot down observations of people and let him read it, this was going to be difficult. She stared at the top of her desk, no one was allowed to violate her private journal space...unheard of, cannot be done...get out of this class!!! the frightened voices shouted in her mind. "Yooo hoooo, what's your name sister?" brought her from the Plains of Fear and into the Mountains of Humiliation, The Callahan was addressing her. She listened to the silence and looked up, his face was about 6 inches from her nose, she flushed and gave him her name. He took pity on her and murmured, "It's all right. This is only the first class. My bark is worse than my bite, relax dear."
By the end of the instrucion her head was spinning.
"Hey can anybody give me a lift back to my house?" The Callahan bellowed
One of BT's classmates pointed at her and said, "She's got wheels."
How could BT refuse The Great Bear Callahan? It would be rude to say no, but what would she say to this man on the way to his house? Being painfully shy has its draw backs, especially when chatting with someone who was 40 years her senior. She was sure he didn't even know what MTV was!
Her worries were put to rest as they drove along the twisting roads he kept a stream of funny stories and she learned 1-he didn't know how to drive and relied on student transport 2-he was terribly funny 3-he was gruff but quite kind hearted. Feeling at ease she asked why he cursed so much in class. He told her that it was a way to get down to the student's level-to communicate with them using words they used, how could a student learn if the instructor used language that drifted over their heads? He did not want a class of milk toast he wanted active thinking and communication, in whatever form it took to get the point across. This reasoning she understood. She dropped him off and promised to pick him up for his classes the following morning.
This became her freshman routine; pick C up in the mornings and deliver him safely to his door in the afternoon. Her payment for the taxi service was the occasional lunch, which was a great treat for she was very poor and did not have funds to eat well. The taxi service did not grant her any special privileges in class, in fact, C was tougher on her than the rest of her classmates and many of them commented upon this fact. The ferrying from home to campus and back again was never a trouble for her passenger would tell her interesting stories and brought her chocolates.

The freshman year ended and the sophomore year began. Bea she was now called. Re-named by C during the class in public speaking due to a rather embarassing Aunt Bea (from the Andy Griffith Show) impersonation performed by this humble writer. She enrolled in her fall courses and moved permanently off campus into a house that used to be a grain barn, it was refered to as The Shack for a shack it was. The Shack was located on the same street as C's house (roughly a quarter of a mile away) and her role of chauffeur had altered over time. In addition to the morning and afternoon runs, wednesday nights were B & C evenings. They would get together around 6:30 pm, have a light snack (usually cold salads from the deli counter and a piece of fried chicken or plates of hot soup) have lively discussions about books, recipes, current events, laundry detergent or the best catfood. (C had a cat named Tipper at the time) Then they would go into the cozy livingroom and watch Masterpiece Theatre. Tipper would saunter in and curl up on C's lap while Upstairs Downstairs or I Claudius or The 6 Wives of Henry the 8th played. The schedule would sometimes include various side trips. C would call The Shack, "Hey Bea, you wanna go down to The Coop (local dive diner where students hung out late at night). I need some grease, whadya say?" then she would pick him up in the Bea-Mobile and go grab some grub. They were always welcomed with great cheer at The Coop, C was popular with many students for his famous brand of tough love and foul speech. Tables would be cleared and food brought out when Bea and C arrived, students strolled by to pay homage and waitresses happily flirted with the witty professor. Much feasting and fun were had at the old Coop in those days.

***It should be noted that the best approximation to the actual living Callahan would be Al Pacino's performance in Scent of A Woman. Callahan was not a drinker nor was he blind but when teaching he had the same clipped speech and bombastic manner which he used effectively in a classroom. In private, the man was a teddy bear.