“Hello,” I said, answering the phone. It wasn’t very original, but usually gets results. “Hello,” a gruff voice growled. “This is Velma. Rocky will be there to get you at five-o’clock.” “I’ll look forward to that,” I replied. “Thank you very much,” and hung up the phone. “Who’s Rocky?” I wondered, and, “Do I owe him any money?”
I quickly called and left a message for W.S. “Who are Rocky and Velma and why are they out to get me?” Twenty minutes later, he called back and told me that Rocky and Velma are fellow graduate students. “They are a very nice couple. Don’t be afraid of them. They aren’t much bigger than you.” “But she sounded so tough,” I replied. “That’s just her New Jersey voice”, he said. You’ll like them. Sorry I forgot to tell you about dinner at their house, but Rocky offered to pick you up. I’ll meet you there.”
Rocky was certainly a misnomer, because the man who picked me up was a gentle, studious fellow. His mother probably named him after her contractions rather than his disposition. He and Velma had met while they were dance partners in a college campus production. “Unfortunately, I dropped her; but I picked her up, and we’ve been together ever since,” he said.
So began a lifelong friendship with two of the dearest people I have ever met. Velma apologized for having been crankier than usual on the telephone, but earlier that day, when she had returned home from class, she found a strange man sitting in her living room, reading the rough draft of her dissertation. “What are you doing?” she demanded. “I’m waiting for the dentist,” he replied.
“Look around,” she said. “Does this look like a reception room?” “Well, he said, looking around. “I think so. Will the dentist be long?” “This used to be a dentist’s office. It isn’t a dentist’s office anymore. It is now an apartment,” Velma said. “Can’t you tell the difference?” “Do you know the dentist’s new address?” he asked. “I do not!” said Velma. “Don’t you have anything else to say to me?” “You could use some better reading material,” he replied, on his way out. “ I didn’t understand that stuff at all.” The living room wasn’t arranged like a reception room, but I must admit that their narrow little kitchen did suspiciously resemble a dental laboratory.
One day as W.S. and I were walking across campus, we passed a man who immediately got my attention. He wore a green-checkered shirt, a purple bow tie and orange trousers. “Is there a golf course around here?” I asked. “No,” said W.S. “That’s Velma’s major professor, the brilliant Dr. Emmett.” “As in Kelly?” I asked. “No!” he replied. “Dr. Emmett never clowns around. He is world-renowned in his field. “Which is?” I asked. “Spacial Perception,” said W.S. “What does that mean?” “I think it involves shapes and colors,” he replied. “Well,” maybe he’s wearing his research,” I surmised. Why else would anyone look like that on purpose? I don’t know if brilliance breeds’ oddness, but every professor we encountered had nurtured his own quirk.
Rocky’s major professor was a---I’m-going-to-write-every-other-word-on-your-thesis kind of guy. Professor Bodkin was a micro-manager of the worst kind. Not only did Rocky’s work need the Bodkin stamp of approval, but it would also bear his fingerprints, his footprints and probably a bit of spittle to seal the deal.
Rocky told us that one-day when he mailed a letter (which Bodkin had approved), he found out that his professor had waited at the blue drop box for the mailman, because he wanted to change a word. I’m not sure if a wrestling match ensued, but I do know that unless you have a stamp on your hand, you are to keep it out of the drop box---which happily proves that---even the Bodkins of this world are not in control all of the time.
Esther Blumenfeld
CROSSING WITH THE BLUE LIGHT, Blumenfeld c. 2006