Despite being frequently downtrodden by three plus years spent in an academic program dominated by testosterone--albeit a slightly less potent brand--and a erudite knowledge of how a computer converts a simple keystroke into a the swift and final blow that takes down Mongor, Ogre King of the Northern Hordes, every now and then there occurs an event that makes this town shine. Whether it be an all but flattering photograph of the recently crowned Ms. Longview performing what appears to be some sort of voodoo hex or listening to my neighbor, Mr. Saunders, awkwardly struggle through every note of Eli Young Band's "When It Rains" through the bathroom door, these events, though infrequent, are worth their weight in gold. If I had my way, every day would be filled with these moments. However, at the risk of becoming complacent, I try find contentment in their mere occasional occurrence. Looking back, I am reminded of many such events that dot the landscape of my college career. One of my fondest occurred only a few weeks ago. It was in chapel. We had a band called "Downhere" perform--don't worry; I hadn't heard of them either. Now, for those who have never been to a LeTourneau musical event, it is a commonly known fact on campus that our student body has the collaborative rhythm of an epileptic ferret. We also happen to be tone deaf. The band did not know this. During one of their songs, the lead singer asked the audience to sing along. Any other campus--and probably any other band--and this probably would have worked, but at LeTourneau that kinda crap doesn't fly. Once he had dished out the invitation for participation, I braced myself. "Oh s***..." I thought to myself. The next thing I heard was one of the most humorous I had heard in chapel to date. It was like listening to an entire chorus of '90s grunger wannabes listening to to the radio when Nirvana's "Smells Like Teen Spirit" starts playing. Everybody knows the tune, but no one knows the words. "...na... dum... doo.... dee....... NANANANA!!!! NANANANA!!!....." The cacophony that ensued was moving. I don't mean moving in the way people mean it when they say things like "His heart was moved." I mean it more in the way that people mean it when they say things like "That was a gnarly bowel movement." But even though it was absolutely horrendous, it still made me laugh. These are the moments that make this place "not so bad". It makes me look forward to what the future has in store.
This one goes out to all the peeps in east Texas with no rhythm and to Ms. Rebecca Robinson. I salute you.
