Edgar

I remember a guy who went to Mont Alto when I was a freshman – he was named Edgar. Edgar was a most interesting person in that he was so deaf, he couldn’t hear you next to him, but for some reason, he could hear a keg being tapped a mile away. In fact, scientists have speculated that Edgar’s ears were very similar to sharks’ noses, but instead of being able to smell a drop of blood from miles away, Edgar’s ears could hear a drop of beer from the same distance.

I only remember seeing Edgar at keg parties – I’m not sure if he was even actually a student at the campus, to tell you the truth. But the guy never missed a party, and was always there to greet you with either his classic “Pretty Cool,” line, or the more muffled “Let’s get f*cked up” favorite - both done with some sort of slur that was endearing yet very funny. So popular was he, that he was imitated all over campus, by students, faculty and staff. I think there may have been tee-shirts and coffee mugs sold on campus with his picture on them.

Edgar was everything you would think he was just by hearing his name and knowing where he went to school. He was a pure woodsman. Again, I’m not sure if he actually knew how to do things like throw axes and chop down trees, but I did know this – Edgar looked like a woodsman and that is all that mattered. He wore flannel like it was skin. Jeans were considered standard, as well as the scraggily thing he wore on his face that he called a beard (I swear, when he was chewin’ tobacco, that thing winked at me). I believe he wore a hat, but it had been permanently bonded to his head over the years.

Hot HUB Lawn Days

Good news for all of you hibernators – this weekend is supposed to be glorious, with temperatures even sneaking into the low 70’s. Time to shed those heavy winter sweaters and coats, and slip into those short sleeves and shorts.

My mind always wanders back to the Nittany Valley when these first warm temperatures of the season return – to a place on campus, known to some as the HUB lawn. The place where hot women with tight bodies would appear after many winter months of curious seclusion – usually dressed in bikinis and tight shorts, playing volleyball, Frisbee, reading. It was like Shangri-La for us horny college students.

We would often make it a point to walk past the HUB lawn in order to “take-in” the scenery – even if we were walking out of our way to do it. I guess it was good exercise in a sense. They were like seals sunning themselves on the sand (but obviously much better looking), and we were like the sharks or whales waiting for them to hop into the water (however, we weren’t that aggressive, and we probably wouldn’t have eaten them … at least not the way sharks do).

Sometimes we would walk by several times just to get more of a look. It was like tradition. Of course, we would never talk to the women, but we would walk by trying to look cool, and hoping to be noticed - which we hardly ever were … except for one time.

I was walking back from class on a very warm day in April, and the ladies were out in full force, tempting me to stare … which I naturally did. I stared and stared as I walked, not really paying attention where I was walking … until I walked into a light post. THEN, the ladies noticed me. Of course, I was a bit embarrassed, as I picked myself up off the ground and walked back to the apartment – no bruises, except for my fragile ego.