Bump in the Road
One beautiful spring day found Tim Mallory enroute to Atlanta for a visit at that most prestigious engineering school, Georgia Tech. His Hattiesburg, Mississippi newspaper supporter had placed him in contact with a representative from a large chemical company who, in turn, made an offer
that moistened his eyes. The company, Hercules, would give Tim a student-cooperative (co-op) position if the engineering aspirant applied and was accepted into the Georgia Tech cooperative program. A tall order, for sure, and the odds were stacked against him, but Tim accepted. He relished the challenge for it was the opportunity he'd been hoping for, praying for. Award of the position would provide the financial means for achieving his Chemical Engineering degree. The student work/study co-op pattern would be to alternately attend school for a quarter then work a quarter until the engineering degree requirements were completed. As an additional bonus, a permanent job would be waiting for him with the chemical company, upon graduation.
Though naturally apprehensive about the chore he had undertaken and must complete, Tim charged onward knowing that most peers wouldn't dare take on the awesome challenge. But that was part of what drove him; that and the burning desire he had to become a university-trained engineer. His initial reluctance was swept aside by these consoling thoughts: "They can't eat me, can they? No, they can't. The worst they can do is say no, and I'll giv'em hell if they try that!"
He was surprised to discover the school was located in downtown Atlanta, and consisted of many hallowed old buildings that reeked of academia. The young man was all eyes while driving by Grant Field, and awed throughout his campus tour. He topped off the continuing rush of excitement by grabbing a hot dog, coke and fries at the famed 'Varsity', a fast-food eatery located immediately adjacent to the school.
The following morning, he located the complex of offices belonging to Dr. Joe Thomaston, the man charged with over-all responsibility for managing the Georgia Tech Cooperative Program. Normally, a lesser official would have serviced Tim's request; however, on this day, he was passed from one worker to the other until one bright pencil-pusher decided that Dr. Thomaston was the only one who could make a final decision regarding this particular application. The indecision and delay this frustrating morning was due to unusual, non-standard circumstances surrounding Tim's co-op request.
"Come in, young man," Dr. Thomaston beckoned, "and have a seat. As I understand it, you want to enter our program."
"Yes, Sir, I surely do," Tim beamed.
"Well, then, why don't you read an article while I glance through this file of yours." Tim nodded his head in agreement and did as requested.
While the folder was being perused, Tim tried to remain calm by thumbing through a magazine though too much of his life was on the line for him to actually concentrate on any particular magazine story. Finally, the Doctor of Chemical Engineering, folded the file, reared back in his swivel chair and spoke as he cleaned his glasses.
"Tim, you have a mighty fine record and I offer my congratulations for success you've had thus far."
"Thank ya', Sir."
"Yes, sir," the doctor continued, "I can't recall having a better record cross my desk so far this year. And, I hope you enter our school though I can't put you into the co-op program."
"You can't!" A startled, unbelieving Tim exclaimed. "Why not? I mean, after all, you've said I have an outstanding record."
"Yes, you do." The Doctor responded as he reared back in his chair, interlaced his fingers together in his lap, and looked over the top of his glasses as the young man agonized over the befuddling decision. The Doctor's actions further distressed Tim because they reminded him of a funeral director he knew back in Hattiesburg. "God," he thought, "this was to be the happiest day of my life, not a funeral."
"Then, Sir," Tim ask resolutely, "why can't ya' accept me into the program? Don't ya' think I can hack it?" The comment both pleased and amused the man, causing him to answer, "Young man, from what I've seen you'd probably do quite well here at Tech. And, as I've said, I hope you enter our school. But, our co-op program is geared to inject students into it immediately after their first year. Seeing's how you've already completed your freshman and sophomore years, you're ineligible." Though visibly trying to suppress it, Tim was simultaneously crestfallen and angered. Crestfallen in that his hopes had been dashed to the ground. Angered because here was another unforeseen obstacle that magically appears out of thin air to plague those who strive for more. "Damn!" He thought. "Must there always be negatives? Can't anyone come up with incentives? No wonder people are reluctant to stick their necks out to improve. There's always some inflexible, ass-hole rule, policy, or regulation to screw 'em over."
The bearer of bad news interrupted his thoughts. "Again, Tim, I'm sorry we can't help, but do hope to see ya' around campus, anyhow." In the process of uttering this intended note of finality, the Doctor walked around his desk, placed his hand on Tim's arm, and gently guided him toward the door. The disappointed Mississippian was temporarily dumfounded but began to crank the ol' gray matter furiously. Just short of being ushered unceremoniously out the door, he stopped and questioned, "Tell me, Doctor, am I ineligible simply because I have two years of college and you only enter second year students?" Though a bit disgruntled because of the prolonging question, the administrator condescendingly nodded his head and answered in the affirmative. Gathering hope and confidence once again, Tim continued, "What if I only had one year of college, would I be eligible?"
"Yes, you would've been, Tim," the Doctor conceded. "But you have two years, and, therefore, are not eligible." The young man grinned and shot back, "Then I'll only transfer one year of credits."
"You'll what?" The professor stammered in disbelief.
"If you can't accept me as a junior, then I'll reenter my sophomore year."
"You're not serious!"
Moving his head back and forth in an affirmative motion, Tim replied, "Yes, Sir, I'm dead serious. If that's what it takes to get into your program, I'll forfeit a year of school." Still shaking his head skeptically at what he'd heard, Doctor Thomaston opened the door and guided the now beaming student into the office of a subordinate.
"Jim," he instructed, "sign him up."
"But, Sir," the subordinate countered, "he'll be a junior next year."
"No he won't," the boss laughed, "he's giving up one year of credits, and transferring in as a beginning sophomore."
"You've gotta be shittin' me!" Jim blurted out in disbelief, then quickly placed a hand over his mouth in a futile effort to retrieve the expletive. Instead of scolding him for the indiscretion, however, his superior chuckled and shook his head side to side as he turned to leave and commanded, "Like I said, sign him up."
After completing the necessary paperwork, Tim returned it to the still uncertain subordinate who asked once more, "Are you sure you want to do this?" Tim laughingly replied, "You bet your sweet hiney I do." He was assigned a dorm room and told he would be attending school during the summer and winter quarters and working at the Hercules chemical plant at Hattiesburg during the fall and spring periods. The Mississippian was very pleased with the arrangement, for it meant the maximum time he'd be separated from his sweetheart, Adrienne, would be three months at a time. Additionally, much to his joy, he'd be able to see all the Pearl River Junior College Wildcat football games next season. This would be the last season for his friend, Jeb Jackson, to play at the two-year college.
He was soon dismissed and left the office while being applauded by several workers who knew what the young man was sacrificing in order to enter their program. Feeling good about himself and what had been accomplished, Tim decided to drive about the campus. Perhaps he'd get lucky and run across the dorm in which he'd be living. "Dear God," He prayed while driving, "thanks for being with me, and for providing a solution when the fat was in the fire. And, Dear God, please stick close to me as I make this giant step from a small Mississippi junior college to this magnificent university. You know how much I need ya."
After parking in front of his future home, Tim wandered about the dormitory until he found his room, which was to be shared with another individual. He tapped several times on the door but got no response. Therefore, he used his key to open the door and shoved it ajar. His intent was to take a quick peek inside at where he would be residing for at least the next quarter. To his dismay, he realized too late that his entrance had inadvertently awakened the current tenant.
"Whatcha' want?" The sleepy-eyed resident yawningly asked as he rose up and sat sideways on the cot school administrators called a bed.
"Forgive me for wakin' ya' up," Tim apologized. "But, I'm enrolling next quarter and I've been assigned to this room. I guess we'll be roommates."
"I don't know 'bout that," the occupant replied as he slipped on a pair of pants and ran fingers through disheveled hair. "I beg your pardon?" Tim asked for clarification. The occupant chuckled and stated, "If I don't improve my grades, I might not be around next quarter." This reply unsettled a normally confident Tim because it zeroed in on a long-time concern of his: The academic background and intellectual abilities required to pass Tech courses. Here was a young man who evidently had at least 1200 on his SAT scores, and must have ranked in the top five or ten percent of his high school class. If not, he would never have been accepted by Tech. "So," pondered Tim, "why the hell is he having problems in school?" The real gnawing fear was the haunting question of, "Am I bitin' off more than I can chew? Can I make the grades?" He shook off the nagging thoughts and queried, "In which classes are ya' havin' difficulties?"
"All of 'em," the occupant exclaimed laughingly. "But, mostly in Calculus, Organic Chemistry, and Physics."
"Whewwww," Tim verbalized as he closed his eyes and slowly shook his head. Then he opened his eyes and stated, "Man, you do have problems."
"You're right," he chuckled, "I do. But, forgive me for being so rude and inhospitable. C'mon in and close the door," he commanded while rising to offer a handshake. "My name's James Tatum, but friends call me 'Pet', and I'm from Freeport, Florida."
Tim introduced himself and related where he hailed from while clasping the hand of a seemingly affable young man who stood about six feet tall and weighed approximately 170 pounds.
"Pet?" The Mississippian chuckled. "Why Pet?"
"Aw hell," the Floridian chortled, "it's a nickname I picked up in high school. I managed to graduate as the fifth-ranked student out of a graduating class of 106 seniors. My friends say the only reason I did so good was because I was the teachers' pet."
After a good laugh with Tim over the confession, he somberly sat down on the cot and continued, "Considering the miserable grade point average I've maintained at Tech since the beginning 'til this last quarter of my sophomore year, maybe they're right."
"Aw shit, Pet," Tim blurted. "Haven't ya' heard the night is always darkest just before dawn? You'll make it."
"I hope so, Tim. I surely hope so. 'Cause I think you'd be one helluva good roommate."
The drive back to Mississippi was long but not near as long as the drive had been to Georgia. Forcing himself to visit Georgia Tech and confronting the co-op decision-makers had to rank as one of the toughest chores he'd ever undertaken. But, thank God, he'd done it! He continued to glow all over from that wonderful thought. On the other hand, there was much worry in that he'd just lifted the top off Pandora's box. Much hard work, anxiety, and trauma waited from now until he reached the end of a long, time-tunnel where a piece of paper lay designating him as an engineer. Though rightfully concerned about the subsequent hurdles he faced, Tim was not overwrought with worry. After all, he concluded, I'll just take each challenge one at a time as I've done all my life. If the Lord continues to give me good health and stamina, I'll survive and succeed.
Tim stayed at his family's Hattiesburg home just long enough to share good fortunes with parents, brothers, and sister, then showered, packed and departed for "The River" (Pearl River Junior College.) Presently, he still had a room at PRC, "The River," but soon would have to give it up. Later, however, after transferring to Tech, he knew Jeb and others would insure that he had a place to lay his head whenever he drove southward to Poplarville, Mississippi, the home of PRC. And there was a little girl there who would always make him want to return time and time again. He ached just thinking about her, and knew he'd have to see her whenever possible. Their love was undeniably true and a joy for all to behold.