Our Left Bank

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0.93

Know what that low number is? That was my college GPA by June 1983. Yes, mine. In two semester's time, I had managed to ruin a fine academic career I was proud of. Academic probation one semester as a freshman, then finally RIC gave me the heave-ho out the door in June.

“Be GONE! You SUCK! Don't EVER come back!” as they threw pencils and notebooks at me.

I wasn't partying too hard at all for that to happen. In fact, I haven't met my college buddies yet and my social life revolved around the local delinquents that I grew up with. The reason for that awful result was that I was dealing with a Mom who in six months time, we'd be forcefully pushing through the front gate of the Enchanted Castle (Butler Hospital). By forcefully, I mean my brother and I holding both of her arms and “suggesting” we walk, 'that-a-way' rather quickly, whether she wanted to or not. By January 1984, once my role as nurse, that I had played for a good damn year prior, was relieved, I could concentrate on my classes again.

“But, I thought you told us you were OUT of college?”

Yes I was. But RIC had a backdoor admission's policy called Continuing Education. As long as I wasn't matriculating toward a degree, I could take classes “one by one.” Once I pulled up my average GPA to the minimum of 2.00, I was back again in degree candidacy.

Since my attempts at a Bio degree was FOREVER banned from my grasp, I switched over to psychology major. Gee, after dealing with shrinks, psychiatric nurses and how to inject Haldol in a 50 year old woman, it's no wonder why this was on my mind then and chose that major. 

September of 1985 was when I met Ken O., a Woosocketian who also was pursuing a psych degree and we both shared a class. One day I missed a class and since I talked briefly to him before, I asked if I could copy his notes from the class I missed, he said “Sure.”

But, we would have to find a room, a place to do it. He brought me along to Gaige Hall, the history majors building and we settled in the “Lounge.” There I met Matt K, Meredith W. Joe F. Russ D, Karen R. and a host of others. Plus a weird, seemingly “acting to damn young for his age” history professor whose career involved command of Navy ships and cryptographic communications. The said professor eventually provided cover for our shenanigans I later found out.

I didn't know it yet but the dynamics of our little group would produce a creative, funny, smart and begat a charisma that would fuel growth. That in turn opened up our true selves. In short, we allowed one another to be ourselves no matter what the differences were. “Anything Goes!” would probably be our motto.

The lounge we hung out at, I would go as far to say, turned into a salon. A salon like Hemingway's 1920's Left Bank where they met at a certain table each night at a favored restaurant. I won't back down from that comparison either. You get the “right kind of people together” and loosen them up with some margaritas, and magic happens between them. We all, through our interactions, created a larger sum than our individual parts could've amounted too.

This happens all the time, anywhere, though not every member goes onto write the Great American Novel or start a IPO like YouTube. It doesn't have too. You only hear about that IF someone in the group achieves that exposure.

These associations are born, live, peak then die. It's the nature of them. Our peak was a trip to Montreal in March of 1987 where our “growth” was about show itself in full. I won't go into the various stories but think of a bohemian enclave where “anything goes” and you'll get it.

The trip was legendary. How do I know? Because the antics of our trip got back to Carolyn Guardo, the President of Rhode Island College. How did she find out? On our way back to Providence, the bus we were on got a call to pick up some Boston U. kids who were on their own excursion and their bus broke down. Those poor kids had to endure our Animal House antics all the way to B.U.  Debby B. the hottest blonde on our team, decided to jump into the lap of two BU boys, grind them and then ask, "How are ya?"  You'd think that would be the dream come true for any 20 year old guy but these two absolutely froze in their seats when she did that. "Ok, kid, You have your dream, now you don't know what to do with it!" We generally suppose this bus party was of great talk to the B.U. people who then informed Carolyn Guardo. We also suppose it got back to her from some of our own people.

She then in turn quizzed Norman Smith, the Chair of the History Department who then asked our chaperon, Mr Barn B., a history professor about it all. (I use 'chaperon' in it's most ineffective, 'let the kids do whatever the hell they want and then join them anyways' sense). Barn was questioned about “just what the Hell happened in Montreal? The Bus? All of it?”

“Nothing...what you are hearing is all blown out of proportion.” he tells Norman Smith.

“You sure? I heard about hotel doors being smashed in (That's true, Barn did that). A blond harlot who was going from bus seat to bus seat grinding on the boy's laps and each boy trying his hardest to get her pants off. Various stops to stock up on alcohol. Drugs, nudeness, vomit...”

Barn states again: “Nothing like that happened. I was there, I saw it all. What are you going to do? Believe the rumors Guardo overheard at some meeting? Norm...I was there! None of those rumors are true!

In all honesty, they were.

Luckilly for Barn and us, Norman Smith was the kind of administrator who would rather ignore the fires that were burning in his department, as long as they were sort of out of sight and as long as Guardo found something else to worry about. She eventually did. Smith's management style was to prefer to act as if “none of it ever happening.”

Addendum: After our group had left the Lounge, any trips at Spring Break that had anything to do with the history department were severely curtailed. Norm Smith had given up his Chair to a George Kellner who particularly hated us and Barn. I was told of this years later. Apparently Kellner and a couple of others were insanely jealous of our Little Bohemia and of Barn himself who was later forced out of his position. Barn had the gall to show up teaching classes in a tennis outfit and sweaty from batting a ball on a court and THIS was not the image Kellner wanted portrayed. Barn thought, “Ah screw it, I'm going back into the Navy” and we kids were long since graduated anyway. The politics of the History Dept had changed. The department ought to have an image of serious, sober and austere learning. No more raucous trips to Montreal. Later on, it was found out Kellner was a serious diabetic and had bouts of his own insanity when his sugar levels were out of whack. His tenure as Chair was cut short when his management style was becoming a bit right of Hitler. Medical leave for him! Looking back, we wonder if Kellner was nuts due to undiagnosed diabetes and hence his hatred of the Lounge.

**

Our Gang broke up as it had to, when we all graduated. But we kept in touch in various ways for a few years after and then we further drifted apart as career, travel and marriages, kids happened. Then many years went by without us really seeing one another. That's Life.

Then some time five years ago, I wasn't having any of that anymore, being apart. I started to get us all back together for mini reunions, even if just for a few hours.

We had one last night at a small BBQ joint called BoneYard. I scanned all of our group and couldn't really believe we were that old now. The funny thing is that when we meet, we tend to go back to that Lounge and the old personalities bounce off one another. Sure, I admit, the bouncing is not as boisterous and we all are now salted with experience and have tougher, thicker skins, but the core personalities are still exist. The essence is still there.

There are periods of my life that were great, some not so and I had to slog through them, but 1987 I can point to as one of the better ones. I don't ever regret having falling in with the Lounge. Not one bit. It was nothing but profit for me and I know, for them as well. It was way too much fun! If I could recreate it, I would.

By the way, I graduated with a GPA of 3.43 in the end. OK, it's not 4.0 but a hell of a lot better than 0.93!