Camaraderie alive on campus

I came to the campus for one of my rare visits since graduation. I entered the parking lot nearest the Student Center and Drama Center, looking for a visitor spot I could pay to use. The pay booth was no longer in use, so I looked for a place that might be marked for visitors. Failing to find one of those, I finally noticed the electronic parking meters on the north side of the lot.

I parked, turned off my van and tried to remember if I had brought change with me. My memory failed, I looked - no such luck. Okay, well, maybe there's something else I can do. No change machines here. The meter reads 0:07. I was in early high school when Sean Connery was James Bond, so maybe I can still make like that, get to the Student Center, get change, come back before the meter police get there. Yeah right.

Well, say, isn't there something in that Tech fight song about gambling? Got to. I age-48-style burned it to the Stud Cntr, let Coca Cola profit from my misfortune, and, boldly foregoing a lid or straw, began an Olympic class, one-good-leg return to the parking meter. As I approached I saw a strange and curious sight. A young man, blonde hair blowing in the relentless wind, shell jacket billowing to the Northeast was there, hitting each meter in turn. He was already past my van!

I hurried to the meter, looking with resign for the paper victory flag of the enemy flapping arrogantly from a windshield wiper. It wasn't there! Was there still time left in the meter? Yes, but ... 0:15???? It was then I noticed the button below and its succinct message, "Press here for more time." I understood.

He was what we always were. What we always are. And what we always shall be. There is more to being Tech than the math and the chemistry and the life that drains your body and hammers at your soul. We are each more a than ramblin', gamblin', helluv'an engineer. We are a family who have lived the same things, and the familiarity overreaches years and attitudes and microdramas that want to rule our lives. He was my family. Thank you, young brother. Even though I have been an alumnus longer than you have lived, we are of a mind and a spirit that time cannot erase. May some young, strong and fast engineer be kind to you when you are gray. And may your stay in the family that is Tech be deep and meaningful and lasting.

Oh, and the task I wanted to complete? I made my annual donation to the Roll Call. So that some other member of the family might profit from what Tech hammered into one of her children.

Howard L. Thomas, Jr., Ph.D.

BS Text 1974, MS Text 1987

hthomas@auburn.edu