We have shopped, prepared me and my family, for the inevitable. I am flying their coop, starting college in August. I am excited, bursting with energy, some thoughts are depressing. What is really ahead of me? Will I do well, be proud of myself? How will my parents cope living with an empty nest? No doors will bang, no wet footprints will be in foyer. My closet will be almost bare except for a few things I may use during spring break. Saying goodbye to childhood, my early youthful life is a heavy load.
Mom has been lecturing me for weeks to take it easy, don’t pledge a frat right away. Leave the girls alone. Let them hunger for you. Ha ha! We laugh together at that idea. Call home every week-end, more if I want to.’ Mom even thinks about who my room mate will be. ‘It’s important that you get along, become friends. Don’t get sucked into beer drinking, drugs, sex.’ Usually her love shows thru as she goes to put dinner on the table. ‘Jason, we are so proud of you. Don’t tarnish our dream.’ On the drive to U. Of V., Mom doesn’t lecture me. Dad does. ‘Jason, the school store will have all the books you need in the used book section, ½ price. Get yours there. If you can’t get what you need, buy a new one.’
It takes us over an hour to load our SUV. There is barely an unused inch of space. Mom had bought a wild, multi-colored bedspread for my single bed, a blanket in bright orange, sheets and pillow cases more purple than mountains. I have towels, wash cloths, new leather slippers, good wearable clothes, jeans of my choice. She added a small frying pan, paper plates, just in case. The piece de resistance is the curved brass reading lamp that is wrapped safely in its own box. I love that lamp.
The Quad is lovely. Dazed students follow the many posted direction signs. Parents tag along. My shared bedroom is in C12, 2nd floor. We park in the correct area, lock the van and empty-handed walk in and up the stairs. The door is open. Paul Dodsford, my soon-to-be roommate, is there before us. He has already claimed the narrow bed near the window. I am left no choice and will be on the side near the door. Paul has a 6 drawer bureau . I have a four drawer one with a knob missing. There are two folding tables for class work. A drab brown rug that has seen better days is on the floor.
My mother’s face is long. It clearly shows the disappointment of the three of us. Paul’s parents come in quietly. They are lugging boxes, bags and a very preppie simple brass floor lamp that looks like it might be an antique. They try to smile, shake hands warmly. Dad says, ‘We are the Shapiro family from NJ. Sarah, Melvin and Jason, our son.’ They are Paul, Martha and Mr. Dodsford. I do not ask his first name nor where they are from. ‘Before we start unpacking, let’s go to the commissary and have a snack,’ Mother suggests. I already see a problem and hope my parents see what I see.
Mr. Dodsford orders a BLT and Mrs. orders ham and cheese with mayo on white bread. Dad orders a kosher style hot dog, chow chow, pickles and a coke. Mom gets an American cheese on rye with mustard and coffee. We all order fries. I know what I am sure my parents already know. Definitely my feelings are correct. The same problem has been facing people like us for thousands of years. Dad picks up the check. There is a lot to discuss about the university, sports, courses, frats, costs. Dad breaks up the solemnity with a mild Jewish joke. I give Dad’s leg a nudge. The Dodsworths have no idea what the joke means, don’t even pretend to laugh.
We return to our room, help as best we can to arrange things. My mom puts the sheets and wild bedspread on the bed. I am sure I see Mrs. Dodsford go pale. Paul makes a snide remark that he will have to buy new sun glasses to stay in this room. I personally love the brightness. It takes away the doom and gloom of Paul’s area. The atmosphere grows chillier by the minute. ‘It’s time we get going, You guys might want to walk around, get the lay of the land, see where the sorority houses are. Right, Paul?’ With no enthusiasm at all, he answers, ‘Right.’ Hugs, kisses, handshakes and our parents leave us to fill the drawers, put our personal things in the shared bathroom. Our room feels stuffy. I open the window half way. A slight fall breeze helps. Paul closes the window and tells me he is in charge of it because it is on his side of the room. My fist clenches. I bite my tongue, plug in my snazzy floor lamp and start to read. My roommate goes out and doesn’t ask me to join him. ‘F’ him!
Our instructions, class assignment papers are slipped under our door. He and I will be in the same Economics class. I open the window again.
The first thing Paul does when he returns is shut it. I am an inch away from punching him in the face but somehow hold my temper. In the morning I manage to purchase all of the economic material I will need from the used department. Paul ridicules me, calls me cheap, a kike. I clobber him and the die is cast.
My first class is the World Bank and his is ‘whatever.’ Professor
Atkins was articulate but still the info was over my head. Returning to the stuffy room, I try to open the window, but it won’t budge. There is a large nail sticking in the frame. The louse has nailed the window shut. He has also moved my snazzy floor lamp to the other side of my desk. I move it back.
Four frat letters slide under the door, two are very prestiges and are for me. The third is from Hillel. There is one envelope for Paul. I tear it to tiny pieces, take them outside to the trash can. I pry out the nail in the window frame with my handy Swiss knife, tackle my notes and wait for Paul. I put on airs, show him my three invitations to pledge and put my nose in the air to tell him I am accepting Hillel’s, for service to mankind and Jews in particular. ‘And, Paul, you will be seeing my brilliant Jewish new friends often. I suggest you try to change your room if you can.’ It takes him two weeks and his father’s anger to have him moved to a new room. My parents aren’t angry at all. They are proud that I stood up to him. They made a nice big donation to Hillel.
Since then I have washed the bathroom, taken over the bed near the window, put my flat things in the six drawer unit and my clothes in the larger closet.
I have also learned that Paul’s new roommate is named Jonathan
Hopper, of the Philadelphia Hoppers and it is also said that Jonathan likes boys. I send a Jewish condolence card to Paul.
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