hallway or on the steps. Once in the hallway Don saw Wendy starting down the stairs, and he quickened his walk to catch up to her. About halfway down the stairs and trying to appear like he was passing her and had just noticed her, Don turned toward Wendy and said, “That guy sure was sound sleep.” “I can’t believe the professor never noticed him,” Wendy replied, shaking her head and smiling. Don, continuing the small talk, said, “I am amazed more people don’t fall asleep in his class.” But then, not wanting to sound too critical, he added, “He obviously knows his stuff, it’s just the way he delivers his lectures.” Wendy smiled in agreement but said nothing. Don, not wanting to waste the opportunity, said, “I don’t know if you remember me, we met at the bookstore the first week, my name is Don Campbell.” “I remember,” Wendy said, adding, “I can’t believe we’re nearly a month into the semester already.” As they reached the bottom of the building’s front steps, Don, knowing many were headed to the cafeteria for lunch, turned to face Wendy and asked, “Are you headed to the cafeteria?” “Oh,” Wendy replied, “I am sorry, I am headed over to the library to catch up on some reading for my 1:30 class.” Don felt his heart sink, this seemed to be a clear signal that Wendy was not interested in getting to know him better. An impulsive part of him wanted to agree that getting in some extra study time was a good idea, and then offer to walk with her to the library. After a moment’s reflection, he knew this would come off forced and too needy, and if she wasn’t interested in him at all, clueless. “Of course, I understand, see you around,” Don responded. While she probably wasn’t interested in any kind of relationship, Don knew there would be other informal opportunities where he would run into her, where he could be more certain of this. He was just too attracted to her to not leave the door open to the possibility she might still show an interest.
Don had applied weeks earlier for a work-study position. He had just received a letter in his mailbox directing him to talk to the manager of the seminary cafeteria. At dinner that night, instead of going through the cafeteria line, he walked directly into the kitchen located on the side of the large dinning area. The kitchen was bustling with activity. One student was pushing a tall cart full of trays with large pans of food toward the serving line. In one corner of the kitchen was what appeared to be an Asian international seminary student up to his armpits in a sink full of pots and pans. There were a number of students from Taiwan at the seminary, and Don thought it likely he was Taiwanese. A mix of students and staff, all with aprons on, were milling about while performing various duties. Don stopped and asked one older lady, stirring a large pot of soup, if the kitchen manager was there. “He’s not here right now, but you can talk to the assistant manager. His name is Tom,” the woman responded, pointing toward a young man in a white chef’s coat and hat.
Don walked over to what appeared to be a young man roughly the same age as him. Tom was about five foot nine, and like him had sandy blond hair. “Hi, are you Tom?” Don asked. Tom took a break from chopping carrots, which Don had noted he had been doing with amazing speed and dexterity. “Whose asking?” Tom said with a big friendly smile as he wiped his brow. “I am Don Campbell, I just got a letter that there might be a work-study position available in the kitchen.” “Well, Don, today is your lucky day. As you can see, John Hu over there is washing pots and I think he’s losing the battle. How would you like to work with him three nights a week?” “No problem,” Don responded. “There are two sets of sinks over there and you can work alongside each other,” Tom continued. “I had a restaurant job awhile back washing pots and didn’t mind it,” Don shared. “When can I start?” He then asked? “Actually, I think John could use some help right now,” Tom said, as one pot atop the growing pile next to the sink came crashing down. “I am free right now,” Don replied, nodding in agreement as he watched a second pan come tumbling down. “Great,” Tom responded, “let me show you where the aprons are,” leading Don over to a large metal drawer. Don instinctively liked and felt a kinship with Tom. Here finally, although it was a seminary employee and not a student, was somebody who seemed open and friendly in a down-to-earth way. Don was later to learn that Tom had started working at the seminary right out of high school. With an intelligent, quick mind and a real interest in learning to cook he had worked his up way to assistant manager of the kitchen.
“By the way Don,” Tom said in the same friendly voice and manner, “the kitchen crew only eats after their shift is done.” “No problem,” Don said as he put the apron on and walked over toward John Hu. John, seeing him coming, wiped his brow, and with a thick accent but in a friendly way said, “Oh, good, I could use the help.” After exchanging introductions, Don filled up his sink with soap and water and started grabbing pans and washing them. Within a week Don had settled into a routine. Once done with his shift Don would grab his tray of food and sit down to eat at the staff table in one corner of the dining room next to the cafeteria. Within a short time Tom would join him, and the two, discovering they had common interests, struck up an easy friendship. It wasn’t just their working-class backgrounds and sensibilities, but also the innate intelligence and the broader interests they shared. Where Don loved philosophy and theology, Tom loved literature and poetry. Most would never guess that either one, upon first meeting them, had such varied interests. Philosophy and theology helped Don to question and grapple with the big questions of life, and particularly those related to suffering and injustice. For Tom it was, first and foremost, poetry that gave his rich inner emotional life an outlet. He had a special fondness for the American poet Robert Frost and the Scottish poet Robert Burns. Soon Tom had invited Don over to his apartment for dinner, where he was introduced to Tom’s fiancée, Sarah. Tom had cooked a wonderful Italian meal, chicken marsala, for the three, and with wine flowing conversation went on well into the night.
Don still had hopes that he might build a relationship with Wendy. What Don could not have known of course was that the reason Wendy was only open and friendly to a certain point, was that she had romantic ties with another man on campus. As Don would find out, the seriousness, however off and on again of that relationship, and the comfort level Wendy felt with someone from her own regional upper middle-class background, would in the end make any relationship between them difficult if not impossible. Meanwhile, deep down Don knew it was only a matter of time before some other incident might tap into the reservoir of anger flowing just beneath the surface of the defenses he had worked so hard to maintain. Events of the last year and a half had taught Don that just when he thought he had begun to feel more centered and was gaining a more positive outlook, certain chords, if struck, could arouse an anger within him that he had a hard time controlling; an anger he now felt toward the unfairness of life itself. Feeling bullied or condescended to seemed to top the list of catalysts.
Calm Before the Storm
Don’s friendship with Tom continued to grow stronger. Invitations to Tom and Sarah’s apartment became a regular event. Don and Tom could be seen sitting together after all three dinner shifts Don worked. In fact Don would come late to lunch just so he could sit and eat with Tom at the staff table. Don continued working his three evening shifts washing pots. As their friendship grew, they found they shared even more things in common. Both took a certain pride in manual labor and working with their hands. They also, at times, shared a certain juvenile sense of humor. Both shared a disdain for political correctness, particularly when it masked an elitist, patronizing, and even prejudiced attitude. As they got to know each other better they were able to share something of their respective dysfunctional family backgrounds. Tom’s mother, like Don’s father, had been an alcoholic and had at times been emotionally abusive. Both found outlets for their reflective side in ways that enabled them to wrestle with their deeper emotional issues. Don loved the works of C. S. Lewis. As a child he had read the “Narnia Chronicles” his mother had bought for him. In college Don had an English teacher who encouraged him to read Lewis’s The Great Divorce and The Problem of Pain. These and numerous other books that dealt with theological and philosophical issues offered Don insight, and touched on the emotional issues he struggled with. Overall, though, they spoke more to the intellectual side of his nature and less to the strong emotions his rational side tried so hard to suppress. Tom’s love of poetry had also offered him an intellectual outlet, but he had found that reading and writing poetry had helped him to process his emotions as well.
