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Sunday, September 12th, 1976
I slept late that morning; unable to attend worship at the campus chapel, or any of the churches in the small town that surrounded the college, because my absence from my own church, at that time, was too sorrowful to allow me to enter another church. That would change, eventually, but not on this first Sunday.
One more freshman orientation meeting was scheduled, for Sunday evening, at the homes of faculty advisors in the prospective departments in which we were expected to declare our majors. My major, at that time, was presumed to b English; and I was scheduled to be transported to a social event, along with some administrative admonitions, at the home of an English professor who was known as Colonel Cobalt.
In the meantime, I chose a quick lunch in the Cafeteria (my meal plan: three meals a day, seven days a week, with unlimited seconds except when steak was served). My roommate had already vanished; I did not care what he might be doing, or why.
Prior to my departure from home, the CBS television network had given broadcast to two films from the sixties, and these broadcasts were considered, and received, as significant events in the entertainment industry. On Wednesday, September 1st, The Graduate was televised; on Friday, September 3rd, Planet Of The Apes was televised. In those days prior to video and dvr recording technology, audio recordings were the only option for preserving a television event. Although only an adolescent with no technical experience, I had assembled a remote control recording system with a fixed microphone that was able to detect, and react to, changes in volume; recording on high quality "casettes" on which, prior to my first summer job in 1975, I invested all of my weekly allowance. I recorded the two films during that first week of September. I had seen The Graduate in a heavily edited version shown to a high school literature class during my sophomore year. I had seen Planet Of The Apes in a movie theater with my parents. I was so anxious to see it again that I declined to spend my last remaining Friday night, before departure, with my Beloved, in order to see this film in my own bedroom. (One of Lloyd and Betty's rules was that my Beloved was not welcome in our home, so I could not extend an invitation to view the film with me.)
So, alone in that dorm room, I put the casettes into the stereo I had purchased the week before (also against the wishes of Lloyd and Betty), and began to listen to nearly four hours of dialogue. My roommate returned, briefly, to the room, and seemed puzzled that I had recorded the audio track of the films; which, in his mind, was not as enjoyable without the pictures that constituted those movies. But, being an aspiring poet, I was interested in the spoken words---and for that, the recorded audio was sufficient.
After listening to the recordings, I puttered around the room until the cafeteria opened. I expected that I would again have another meal with my roommate; but after we arrived at the Student Union building, where the cafeteria occupied the very large second floor, he informed me that he would be eating with some new friends, rather than with me. From that day forward, we never took another meal together. Even though we had the same early (8-9am) political science course on the weekdays, I no longer accompanied him to 7am early breakfast; instead, I took that meal, if at all, immediately after the poli-sci course. Rather than go into the cafeteria, I went to the grill room which was on the first floor, across from the bookstore. There, I ordered my Beloved's second favorite meal (since pizza, as prepard and served by the Pub, was not on the menu): cheeseburger, onion rings, and a cola. The table I had selected was in a corner, and with my back turned to the rest of the room, I was able to weep, unseen, as I attempted to consume this meal. I finally admitted to myself what had been in the back of my mind during the playback of the second film's audio: I could have started the recording and then spent the evening, elsewhere, with my Beloved.
I attended the meeting at Colonel Cobalt's home, which was cluttered with driftwood and other memorabilia from the New England shores, such that the interior of his home smelled more like dead fish than a mid-western home in a small town in a rural county. The visit accomplished nothing.
Having returned to the campus, I decided (as stated above) not to rise in time for early breakfast, but to go directly to my first polisci class and eat afterward. The class, being an introductory 101, was unusually large, and was conducted in an auditorium rather than a classroom. I knew I would be able to obtain a seat as far away from my roommate as possible. Having thus planned for the next day, I attempted to sleep; but, as had been the case the previous three nights, I wept long and profusely---but oh so quietly---before falling asleep. And. although I did not cry myself asleep again, I also began the nightly calculation of the number of days until Wednesday, November 24th---the last day of finals week before the long Christmas break (November 25, 1976 through January 1, 1977) during which, so I had hoped, I would enjoy maximum companionship of my Beloved.
