Lake Land College has a bad habit of moving things around just when I think I know where the h-, I mean, where everything is. Beelzebub must have had a hand in designing the place.
The latest addition in my land of confusion is the renovation and expansion of the Luther Student Center, which I blame on President Josh Bullock. I would confront him over the matter, but I cannot find his office. They moved it somewhere, maybe to Alaska.
I looked up the different names the devil goes by, but could not find “Bullock.”
He looks innocent, this Bullock, upbeat, well dressed and intelligent, which I do not hold against him. We cannot all be perfect.
The lounge area in the Luther Student Center is much brighter. I order a coffee from Subway most mornings. Being an old guy has its advantages; by the time I get to the counter, my coffee is ready. The girls at the counter are very kind to me.
Over the years, I have contributed columns to The Navigator dealing with things like the cursed “and duh,” the practice of affixing reading material to the inside of toilet stalls and being an old guy. Finding the new office of The Navigator required a GPS, a map and a guy named Gilroy. The staff of The Navigator gazed in wonderment when I showed up for one of their meetings. I like being around young people. It beats hearing people my age complain about their health; sometimes going into detail on various bodily functions. Bowel movements rank high.
Currently, I am in Casey Reynolds’ Spanish class. I think learning Spanish is important. In fact, I think they should teach Spanish in our schools. Why? Consider this; Hispanics comprise approximately 17 percent or 52 million in a country of 327 million. I also think Hispanic children should learn English. It reminds me, for some reason, of the guy I ran into at the grocery store who called me a “mal hombre,” meaning bad man, after I beat him to the last bottle of Cholula Hot Sauce.
My goal is neither to speak Spanish, nor write it, I prefer proliferation to conjugation, but I do want to read it. My hopes of hearing it died when my hearing went south. A contributing factor in my deafness is being assaulted by loud Mariachi music in Mexican restaurants. It reminds me of the stuff they play when you are left hanging on a phone call; we are pleased to tell you are now number 524 on our list.
When Casey does his Spanish speaking thing, I hear, “Mwa-mwa-mwa-mwa.” On occasion, he is reduced to yelling at me. It must be frustrating for the guy to hear me abuse the Spanish language and not be able to take me into a back alley and beat me to death. There will come a time when he pleads with me to withdraw from his class. I do not come cheap; it will cost him a hundred bucks in cash none of that credit card stuff.