Doghouse

DOC...not doghouse...

My dorm room.





I've had some great mentors. One of them is dead...Doc Humphries. He was Canadian and possible gay and a Kierkegaardian scholar and a Western Civ. academic at Simpson College in 1978.

I lived in a dorm and it was small, cramped, but in the City. I had a beautiful view and the best air on the planet. Near 30 years later I find myself in much the same situation and, frankly, I like it. I liked it then...I like it now.

Doc lived in the next cell block over. They had rennovated part of the C wing to make it into a three room apartment for him. I lived on second floor D.

He also had a spacious office that we tried to abuse whenever possible. But we were never any match for Doc.

I was poor then and I am today. I was well situated then, and I am today. I lived in a small room with a bunk bed...I do today. I love the same things and as I sat in my small room tonight and listened to Bach's Cello Concerto #4 and I remember the musty books and the deep loins of the Simpson library that I plumbed while others were otherwise occupied chasing girls. My first instincts were always best.

I love to study, and Doc did too. He knew I was a Gospel maniac from the gitco and so he invited me weekly out for coffee in San Francisco. We would go to this coffeehouse (diner) and he would order dessert and I would drink bad coffee and rail against his college. He was so gracious, and he asked me back most every week.

Once, when I was gone chasing a woman in Sacramento, Rich and Devan Devan (always two) Olsen had keys to my room. They made use. In fact they noticed that someone was watching them from C Block and began to pelt the windows with my sugar cubes. They threw and threw laughing their asses off until one of them started to see daylight. It came slow...as they threw pellet upon pellet of sugar at the windows of C Block.

Then horror and realization.

IT's DOC!

They had been pelting Doc while he watched.

They confessed upon my return fearing ultimate retirbution (it was obviously from my room) ..but Doc never said a thing. He just loved me and I loved him.

*******

I dislike commemorative crap...but I had a paver stone made for Doc at The PCS cgurch in Roseville. It would have been better to have done one at McCovey cove when you could get one.

*******

For us Christians who really do believe and not hide, we know Doc is here...NOW. It's not like Disney and James Earl Jones showing up at 40 percent in a scene. No, we really believe and undestand this shit.

Doc has a fulness right now I cannot understand in any real way. I think he must watch me (only occasionally) and both sigh and marvel. He misses our coffee time. I do too.

Bach continues in the background. I had no media then and I have none now...I choose this (okay Bach is via my iPod).

I love the study of the Word...and the sound of violins, and the thought of Doc. and good hardwood floors and the fresh air of the Bay Area.

I like my simple books...John Lennon...U2 on U2...Thich Nyat Hanh's book on the Buddha and Christ...Ellul on the Meaning of the City, St. Bernard of Clarvieux on the Song of Solomon, Lewis on The Four Loves. My pastor Rod gave me N.T. Wright's Simply Christian, and I love it. Wow!!

I love my new dorm. It has better music (iPod) and new techno-shit. But it is still a small space to meet God in. We all have to meet God alone. This is what we avoid and it is (tears) so understandible...but what we really need is to be alone so we can then not be alone...not alone at all.

posted by Obi-Mac BakDon @ 11:36 PM