At Weeks End
A college student again, after 54 years?
That may sound a little far-fetched, but its something Im seriously considering.
On two occasions this week I talked with a general studies advisor at Pittsburg State University. In the second call, he reported my transcript finally was found in dust-covered archives on microfiche, in far reaches of a basement storeroom, and classes I took then will have to be translated to fit within the scheme of todays offerings before a plan may be laid out.
In two or three weeks Beverly and I will drive to Pittsburg and learn specifically what I need to do to finish requirements for a bachelors degree.
Im in the neighborhood of 45 credit hours short, after attending classes in 1961-64; I need 120. I would be able to pick up a few hours at Allen Community College, and perhaps some on online, but most would have to come from classes on campus.
I occasionally have regretted not having a degree, a recurring thought of recent years. Russ Runnels, a good friend who died a few years ago, once told me the bane of getting old was you dont have time to do all you wanted to. That admonition in part prompted me finally to make a call to PSU.
Beverly and I will have to consider a number of things, not the least of which will be time involved, cost and convenience of having to drive to Pittsburg, possibly spend some nights there, for on-campus classes.
Assuming I do and overcome the buyers remorse thats bound to occur I suppose Ill be a little self-conscious being in classes with students less than a third my age, though I think I can adjust. My mind doesnt portray me as an old guzzer, but I do realize, particularly when I first struggle out of bed each morning, that Im not as spry as I once was until the arthritis pill kicks in.
I know I would approach classwork more seriously than I did in the early 1960s, when I let asides interfere with studies. I wasnt exactly Joe College, but I did get around a little.
I FIND myself in degree-less circumstance because of a decision to take a year or two away from college turned into several decades, and a good share of the reason was a job I had while in college.
Familial relationship between my high school counselor and Ken Simons, managing editor of the Pittsburg Sun, led to me working 4 p.m. to midnight six days a week at the newspaper, after attending classes during the day.
Sometime in the spring of 1964 Bud Roberts, who wrote sports for years at the Register and stripped stories from AP wire machine for daily use, resigned. The reason was steeped in rumors I learned second hand and have no intention of repeating.
Bill Conrad, second in command in the news department to editor and publisher Angelo Scott, called in late June 1964 to ask if Id be interested in coming aboard. At 7 a.m. July 6 I walked into the Register for the first time as an employee; still here on an abbreviated schedule.
Beverly and I were married a year later and had an understanding that until we had children, she would be delighted to move to Pittsburg so I could pick up the remaining hours for a degree. She worked as a cosmetologist; undoubtedly there would have been openings in Pittsburg, though we wouldnt have lived too high on the hog.
In 1969 Brenda was born, and I dismissed thoughts of returning, although for years when August rolled around I had a yearning.
