re: TulaneLSU's Top 10 memories at LSU

We were both hungry, so I suggested we go to the LSU Dairy Store, where I would get a chocolate milkshake, something I learned on a visit to Wieners Circle in Chicago never to order, twice weekly when I was a student. On the walk down Highland, I realized how precariously the sidewalk seemed next to cars zooming past. I also showed Mother my favorite campus bus stop, where I would get the bus when worshiping at St. James Episcopal. Mother agreed with me that it was one of the most beautiful bus stops she had ever seen.



Mother asked me about where most of my classes were, and I told her Coates Hall. It was, in a roundabout way, on our way to the Dairy Store. I showed her where I took a graduate level Civil War class with Charles Royster, who took me to lunch at the Faculty Club and told me I was one of the best students he had ever taught. I also showed Mother where I sat in a Coates Hall Christian philosophy class taught by the world renowned, and now deceased, John Whittaker.

Mother needed to use the washroom, but I warned her that Coates Hall was not the place for that. In fact, it was in the western most Coates Hall bathroom that I nearly became the victim of a sexual assault. I had been working on a computer science project in the LINUX lab when I felt the downstream effects of peristalsis. I moved briskly to the bathroom, which was just across the hall. I tore many sheets of toilet paper to make a sanitary blanket over the seat. I sat and suddenly felt the aura of someone watching me. I looked to my left and through a hole was a man’s eyeball.

When he saw that I had seen him, he said, “Hey pal, can you hand me some toilet paper. I’m out.”

I was trying to be a good neighbor, so I tore some toilet paper and started to put the toilet paper through the hole when suddenly he jammed a body part through the hole, hoping that I would touch it. I was horrified. Though I was not quite finished, and may have left a trail of droppings behind, I ran out of that bathroom. I had not returned until this day. I never told Mother that story, and I hope none of you will either. It is simply horrifying to me, and would be even worse for her. Needless to say, I will never let a family member of mine use the Coates Hall bathroom.













After Coates Hall, I took Mother to Memorial Oak Grove behind the Union. It was there that on a Saturday night, I was returning from the library when I came across a distraught young female student. Her hair was a mess and she was crying, causing her mascara to run down her cheeks to the point that she looked almost like a clown. I asked her what was wrong, and she just blathered some incoherent words. Her breath reeks of that deadly and dastardly drug alcohol. She tried kissing me several times, but I was able to repel her advances. Eventually I found out she was living in Acadian, so I brought her there where her roommate took over. I left my campus address with her roommate. Several weeks later, I received an apology letter from the lush. I responded with a heartfelt letter, a copy of The Twelve Steps, and a list of AA meetings in the area. She never responded, but I pray she did not let the fetters of alcohol ensnare her ever again.





We passed my dorm, East Laville and the French House. I never spent much time in the French House other than for advising sessions and one seminar. The Honors College had some real cliques when I was there, and I was an outsider. We also saw one of the Honors College’s faculty’s car while walking through the West Laville parking lot. As she was with Cane’s, Mother was not impressed. As for the roommate stories, Mother advised me not to share them in public, as he is now a very powerful person she fears would seek retribution if I divulged some of what he did, things only I know.








We finally arrived at the Dairy Store. I was famished, having burned off that Caniac. It does not look like much from the outside, but my memories of that little store are bright. We entered and two employees, who gave us the courtesy of looking up from their cell phones, half-heartedly greeted us.

After a quick look at the ice cream offerings – no chocolate, no vanilla, no strawberry, no chocolate chip, no mint chocolate chip, no cookie dough, no cookies and cream – I settled on the least offensive I could find: peach.

“I will have a peach milkshake. No, make that two, one for Mother.”

“Sorry, we are out of milk,” the employee said.

“Out of milk? A dairy store being out of milk is akin to a pizzeria being out of tomato sauce. How is that even possible?”

“It just is.”

I suspected there was milk somewhere in the facility, but that he did not want to go to the trouble of making me a milkshake. I settled on getting two scoops of peach ice cream instead.

The employee rang me up. “That’ll be $8.67.”

“$8.67? It says on the menu one scoop is $2 and two scoops are $3.50. How is this possible?”

“We charge by weight now.”

“But I can get a half gallon ice cream, which is more than four times this weight, and it would cost, according to that menu behind you, $7.50. There is no reason behind this capricious pricing.”

The young man responded, “It is what it is.”

With that, I turned my back and left. Mother commented that she has rarely before seen me so bothered.





That was but a portion of our day of LSU walking. We made it out to the Rec Center and to the Vet School and a host of other locales, including the lakes and the churches by the lakes. By the end of the day, Mother admitted to me, “LSU is a handsome campus, not as beautiful as Newcomb, but its trees are some of the most beautiful I have seen on any campus. You were right, TulaneLSU.”

Perhaps one day, friends, we could meet up for a prayer walk through campus. Together, we could all explore campus and share our most hallowed and cherished memories there. I do so hope.

Faith, Hope, and Love,
TulaneLSU

P.S. I was pleasantly surprised by a few new art installations around campus. There were no such public pieces of outdoor art I can recall from my time. One memorable piece is John Fleming’s piece Reflectivity, which is near the new campus bookstore, which seems to be built on the old Highland Cafeteria site, which closed in 2007. I was told around that time, that the Laville Food Emporium, which was once home to a Domino’s that ran specials for five large one topping pizzas for $25 and became famous as the site where LSU Pizza Girl made a name for herself, was to be renovated.