A Twist of Things to Come

Warning: This post contains schmoop. It is completely true, no matter what you might think by the end. I won't apologize for it, but I will stash most of it behind the cut, to spare you.

In the spring of 1988, I was in my second semester as an undergrad. Up to that point, I had presented myself to my fellow students as shallow and not terribly bright, in the hopes that people would like me. I was always in the middle of activities, and generally left the all night study sessions in favor of having a fresh brain for the tests. My attempt to reinvent myself had been thwarted by the school's practice of posting a list of all the students with 4.0 averages on every door in the student's center. My cover was blown.

I had studied a lot less than the fellow I was dating, and although he was also on the list, he became somewhat passive-aggressive about it. I think he needed to feel like he was smarter than me. It was a great relief when he said, "We just have different values" and we went our separate ways. I was free. Then I realized that everyone assumed I'd broken his heart somehow, and the circle of friends we had shared had begun to close me out. That was fine, too. The theater geeks were more fun, anyway.

On a day late in April, I dressed nice and put my hair up. This was my signal to myself that I was now going to reinvent myself again, this time being more honest with myself and those around me. I was not at all sure how to do such a thing, except I knew I should stop hiding my studious nature.

I set out for the library, a suitably public place to be seen studying. It was directly across the Oval from my dorm. It was a sunny, late afternoon, but it had rained several days previous and the grassy Oval was still squishy. I was wearing my favorite shoes, so I took the brick path around, instead of cutting across. Didn't want to sink in the muck.

That path led past the brick-paved Chapel entryway, where they were practicing for the Greek play, due to be performed on an upcoming alumni weekend. This was a classics project, so not the usual theater crowd. The play was Antigone, and the scene being rehearsed featured Crion, played by a fellow I knew in passing.

( Standing behind him, watching, was a god. )

So, the course of my life was changed utterly by three days of constant rain and an unusual fondness for a particular pair of shoes.