A Memory Shared Lives On
By Bill Shepard
I think often of the old college professor I once knew. The memories he shared each day live on and are more pleasant to the mind than those of the lessons he taught. The old man had come out of retirement to teach Physics at the college where I was in my senior year. I needed the credit the course offered in order to graduate that year. Each day the old professor would come to class and more likely than not begin the day be sharing one of his childhood memories. His stories were more appealing to my ears than the subject he was there to teach. He had a keen sense of humor and I could usually tell when he was about to share on of his stories. Like the day when he came to class and I noticed a twinkle in his eye and the little grin that played on his lips. I knew right off that he was bursting inside to get started and relive one of his memories of a time long ago. I was just as anxious as he was! He took a seat at his desk, leaned backwards, and began. I knew we were in for a trip into the old man’s life.
Bill Shepard
He began, “Last night my wife and I were having one of our serious conversations and she said to me, Charles, we are both up in age, it may be time that we think about our burial plans. If you leave before I do, where would you like to be buried? Would you prefer I take you back toNew York, to the place that we both grew up?” At that moment I thought I saw a far away look in his eyes. He had told us the story about growing up in New York and how he suffered each year with ‘hay-fever.’ Finally his doctor advised him to move southward and that would help. He had taken the good doctor’s advice and had not been bothered with hay fever since. Now his wife was asking if he wanted to be carried back to New York when he died! It was then that I noticed the little grin on his face started to spread wider and I knew the punch line in his story was about to explode! The class sat in silence waiting. “No!” he answered his wife’s question. “Why would I want to be buried in New York, and have hay fever throughout eternity!” The class laughed and the old professor stood up and began teaching his subject.
The year ended and I made a “C” in his class. I needed that. I graduated that year and never saw the old professor again. I am quite certain the old man went back into retirement. I hope for his sake he wasn’t carried back to the place where he would spend his eternity suffering with hay-fever!
As for myself, I moved on and began teaching myself. Like the old professor I often stood before my students and told them stories about my childhood. You can know that my students heard often about the little boy that ventured along Swift Creek in search of the best places to catch fish! It always pleased me when one of the students would say, “Mr. Shepard, tell us one of your stories about when you were a boy.” At those times memories of the old professor would return, and those watching would see a little grin on my face. I would oblige and take off to a place and a time long ago. And it wouldn’t surprise me to hear that some of those memories are still alive! Memories shared do have long lives!
Mr. Shepard is a native of Darlington, S.C., and a current resident of Piedmont, S.C. He is the author of “Mill Town Boy” and “Bruised”. He has been sharing his tales of growing up in Darlington for decades, and we are delighted to share them each week. His mailing address for cards and letters is: Bill Shepard 324 Sunny Lane, Piedmont, S.C., 29673.