World: small

Sometimes our campus is a bit surreal. I went looking for Mark Johnson, and I knew the Philosophy dept. was moving this week from the “Soviet-style” building it’s been in for at least 35 years, but I didn’t find him in the “new” (but much older) building they were heading for, so I went all the way to the one they’d been in. Someone had nicely plastered a pink “where to find them” sign on the door of each of the philosophy professors (they’d shared their hallway with folklore and a few English people) in the old building. Armed with a room number, I headed back to their “new” building, where I ran into Marie. Marie was my best friend in junior high, the matron of honor at my wedding, et cetera, and she works mornings in the Philosophy dept., while also doing the bookkeeping for R’s nursery. She was so exhausted she didn’t recognize me at first. I asked if she was helping with the move... she said, “I am the move.” She wanted to get a cigarette, which I think meant she would have to leave campus entirely, but first she told me where Mark’s office was and – even better – the fact that he was in it. And lo, there he was, and things were good.