A Special Countdown

Countdown: 8 days 5 hours 55 minutes

MEMORY #3: "Not a Head of Lettuce."

So it had been a dry spell for me. I was (am) a young horny male and quite unapologetic about that fact. For whatever reason things had taken a weird turn and odd new symptoms were appearing.

It's hard to describe, but imagine a cat in heat rolling around making a fuss. That was me, except male and homosapian.

It was serious. I was out of control. I felt like the wall swere closing in and madness was knocking at my door.

So much in fact that in the night in question, I was trying as hard as I could to figure out how to fix it. It was in those hours of insanity that my mind made a very poor conclusion.

"I'll just go out and get laid."

It FELT brilliant, and it took no time for me to spring up out of my chair. However, reality gave chase, and somewhere between putting my jacket on and the door I realized...

"It's not like getting a head of lettuce."

There I stood with my jacket half on too ashamed and confused about what to do. I stood there just waiting; looking for anyway I could forget how stupid the idea was.

I eventually retire to my desk in defeat.

In my many years in college, I had few chances to be really promiscuous. I met a wonderful girl my second year and we were together for 3 years. Had I not met her, who knows what bedtime adventures I would have had.

Hardly a story, but sex seems to be a large part of college.

T
K
O

agreeing & indentifying with all your posts so far.

Installment #3 "Not a Head of Lettuce" seems as if the Yardstick professor saw a bit of himself (once) in you.

Excellent thread.

Joe(email updates selected for only the second time)Nation

Countdown: 6 days 15 hour 58 minutes.

MEMORY #3: Home away from House.

This memory may by somewhat unique to me, and not really representative of the college experience, but I feel that it some way it is a story which others may be able to relate to in some capacity.

In the winter of 2006, Missouri was hit really hard with two severe ice storms. In my college town, the ice was intense, but we did not lose power at any time. In my hometown of Springfield, however, the ice brought down many trees. It was declared a disaster area, and some parts of the town were without power in the cold for several weeks.

A casualty of the storm, was that I lost my home. The house I lived in my entire life, was a small house in an older neighborhood shaded in trees. Many of those trees were branded with bald spat where the local children would climb them, and scuff their bark with their sneakers.

I found out from my father that the house had been hit hard in the storm and that the roof/ceiling above my room had been destroyed along with the roof/ceiling above other parts of the house.

By time I had made it home, my father had relocated, and I was able to walk into the house. Without the power, the food in the refrigerator had spoiled and the smell had moved through the house. In addition to that the broken roof had let lots of water in the house. With the moisture, came mold and in many places the floor had become warped.

I salvaged some things from the house that my father had missed in his collections. What I picked up could barely fill a shoe box.

I left my house, and I realized I would never return to it. In the back yard was the plots where I had buried family pets. I would never be able to return to see them again. This may seem odd, but when growing up, my family duty was to take care of the animals. It was a special connection I had to the house.

I was greeted by friends when I returned. While my house was gone, I still had a home.

I don't believe many will experience this kind of thing. However I do think that many can relate to the feeling that the place where they grew up was no longer their home.

It's weird.

T
K
O

Reading along.

Congrats on all three feet.

Rolla?

Well done ... and good luck with your new job.

TKO - this is a piece of journalism - you should submit it somewhere.

I'm reading along, while my wife advises me that not only must I finish the laundry I have started, but that I should not have started to do the laundry in the first place.

Yes, Rolla.

T
K
O

Like where?

T
K
O

I just realized I posted to memory 3s. Also, I lost track of time, I owe another post to catch up. I'll think of something good soon.

T
K
Oops.

A big congrats to you TKO. I'm very proud of you :-D

countdown: 5 days 6 hours 30 minutes

MEMORY #5: The Virginia Tech Shooting.

Last year, a terrible event took place at Virginia Tech. A student armed with a gun(s) went into a residence hall and then into a academic building an killed several students and injuring others.

My school, Missouri University of Science & Technology offers many parallels to that of VA Tech. In fact in my department over half of the professors attended VA tech for their undergraduate, graduate or both. My department is not unique in this way. Our two schools for whatever reason, share a certain bond.

In fact no more than 2 months prior to the shooting a lesser known event took place at my university. A student had made a campus threat of bombs and that he had anthrax. In this case, the individual was simply depressed and attempting to make enough violent claims to provoke a suicide-by-cop. The authorities were able to detain him without anyone getting hurt. In the end, all of his claims were false.

The day after the VA tech shootings, there was a campus vigil held out on the lawn. Student gathered, and there were speakers.

A speaker from the counseling center spoke about the importance of mental health and briefly told the students about the services they offered for those students facing severe depression.

The Student Body President spoke about coming together as a community.

The Chancellor talked about how the University always has our safety in mind. He offered us confidence in our school's security protocols. He was very official.

Nothing that these individuals said moved me in the slightest. I felt the entire thing was a show for the students; a way to pro-actively address the hysteria factor.

However, there was one last speaker. A teacher from the civil engineering department. A man that was in no way extraordinary i presence or title. The only conclusion as to why he was chosen to speak was that he like many faculty had attended Virgina Tech. He had additionally taught there at one point in his career.

When he began to speak, I noticed how he kind of stumbled with his words. He wasn't a confident man, nor did it seem that his public speaking skills were the greatest.

Something grabbed my attentions though. Unlike, the first speakers, this man was not reading from cards. Certainly, he was struggling, but I found the patience needed to focus on him. As I began to pay more attention, I could see him searching for the words he needed to say. It was as if I could literally feel his frustration. I could tell he had something to say, and I could tell it was important.

After some time he found the words, and when he did, he seach smoothed out and his face became determined.

He frankly said that both the incident at our school, and VA tech involved international students, and that many people would use these incidents to make it harder for our international students to come here and study.

It was at first an odd direction for the vigil. I like others were confused.

He continued. He reminded us about the contributions the international community has made to our school and the nation. That they, like us, were here for an education and had found several ways to contribute.

What he said next I will never forget.

"In my life as an engineer, through my good work, and through my research, I have saved more lives than any man can take in one day."

Those words shook me to my core and I sat there on the lawn in tears. I felt in the second for the first time what my duty was as an engineer. I understood why it was so hard for him to find the words, and I understood why he had taken the time to speak in advocacy for our international students.

As a side note, I should explain that in that particular year I had become increasingly aware of the military applications of what I learned. This had been a heavy thought on my mind. I felt conflicted between my passion and the industry it was embedded in.

After hearing that man's words, I've been able to resolve my conflicts. I now feel like a part of the engineering community at large and have a sense of obligation to better the world through science.

If I do my job well, you'll never know.

T
K
O

countdown: 4 days 8 hours 23 minutes

MEMORY#6: Today.

Today was something beautiful. Today was the day my plane flew. College isn't always defined by the nights of drinks with friends, the lack or abundance of sex, or the struggle you encounter.

No. Sometimes it's the feeling that we have when you set out to do something and you do it. You don't always know what you are getting into. You don't always know what is to come. Sometimes it it just better to participate rather than anticipate.

I'm going to share with you what words may not be able to convey.

My plane in flight.

This was a beautiful moment for me. The video was taken by my friend. I took video too, but my video is horrible. The reason being that I couldn't take my eyes off of the plane and I left my arms fall to my side as I was paralyzed in amazement.

I saw in that plane myself. I think I might have seen the future in it too. It's hard to explain.

Engineering is hard, and in more than one occurrence, I've questioned myself. There have been times when amidst the smartest people in the world, I felt intimidated. There have been many times I just didn't feel smart enough or good enough to be here.

You see, I am this plane or it is what I should be. I put in more lonely nights in the lab designing and building it. When you look at the plane from the outside, you can't see all the mistakes; all the repairs. If the plane could speak before takeoff, would it have told be that it too didn't feel like it was good enough to fly?

But the plane can't talk, it can only trust that I gave it everything it needed to fly. So when the pilot throttled up, and my teammate released it from rest, I didn't breathe. I couldn't breathe because I lacked the confidence that I had given it enough.

At first it just rolled along. Then it gained a great deal of speed. It takes one second for a plane to leave the ground, and once in the air, you forget it was ever on the ground.

My plane was confident.
My plane teared through the sky.
My plane took my breath away.

All of that, and it was still the same plane. It had all the breaks and mends; the last minute design changes and repairs. It was like me. I'm not perfect. I've got breaks and repairs to.

With graduation I'm on my own runway. Perhaps I'll fly too.

Perhaps I'll fly too.

T
K
O

An engineer AND a writer -- you're multi-talented Diest TKO. (Enjoying your "memoirs".)

That's a nice plane!

What's the scale?

(Agreed about nice writing, too...)

I'm impressed TKO :-D

Wonderful writing.

My 14 yr. old son is starting to think about careers. He has said whatever he chooses, he wants to be able to help people. He has thought about medical research, but I'm going to read him your post and what the engineering faculty member said. That was profound. Perhaps it will enable him to see more possibilities for himself.

Thank you.

Your writing is going many places - opening eyes and sharing thoughts and insight. Keep up the great memoirs.