A STONE
It was a Saturday morning in early May. The mist from the night’s rain was fading away from the force of the morning sun. The promise of a beautiful day was all about and the expectations of enjoyment were high. Looking out through the back window from our breakfast table, we could see and feel the bright greens and colors of spring.
As the morning progressed, we seemed not able to get to the papers and piled up school work which so much needed to be done this time of year. The sun came out with all of its intensity; the shadows were so deep and the sky so blue. Time had seemed to stand still, and yet it was lunch time and nothing but a few chores were completed.
After lunch, we heard the mailman at the box near our front door. A variety of catalogues and bills were quickly put aside to be cared for later. I opened a nondescript salmon-colored envelope addressed to me. The letter invited me to go to a place to pick up a certain item. I recall that Mary and I drove to the designated site and parked along the street.
The building at the address, painted silvery gray, was one story high and appeared to be a World War II building of a type that was common to college campuses to accommodate the influx of veterans after World War II. Three short concrete walks led from the sidewalk up to three stairs to the building. We chose the first one on the left, walked up four wooden steps with wooden guardrails and entered the building.
The first thing we noticed was a long counter that ran the length of the building. In front of the counter to our right and just inside the middle entrance. were three men conversing with a woman behind the counter. They all had long trench coats on, and yet it was a warm afternoon. Our eyes became adjusted to the dimly lighted hall, and at the end of the hall to our left was a brightly colored model steam locomotive. It rested on a shelf about waist level. It was bright orange with a red stripe about mid-way and perhaps one and a half feet tall.
It was as if magnetic forces pulled me to the engine, directed me to open a small door just above the engine’s window , reach into the compartment and pull out a small, hard object. I put it into my pocket, casually walked out the door, and was very aware, as we drove home that a power source had entered our lives. I felt the warmth of the object on my leg.
Upon arriving home, we examined the object and found it to be a spindle-shaped Stone about the size of a fifty cent piece and about one half inch thick. It was highly polished and appeared to have streaks of malachite on both surfaces. The wonderment of what had transpired on this Saturday lasted through the weekend and so school work remained undone.
On Monday morning with the Stone in my right front pocket, I went to school with an attitude that I could handle anything. I had to give a lecture to a class of about fifteen students in plant physiology. It was about the biology and biochemistry of photosynthesis. This subject generally required much preparation. I kind of apologized to the students about being unprepared and proceeded to lecture. When it was over, the students told me that I should stay unprepared and that it was my best lecture ever.
The Stone was always with me and it seemed that others could see its energy showing through my pants pocket, but no one remarked about that. During the first week, I was in the office of a friend who was a leader of a girl scout troop. A policeman came into the office to find the name of a member of her troop who had gotten into some kind of trouble. Betty couldn’t immediately recall the name, but my own mind flashed the name. I was too skeptical to say it out loud. Betty finally recalled the name and it was the same name. It appeared as though I had read her mind since I had no reason to know of the girl.
Those days were filled with demonstrations of unknown mental abilities. Names of students could be recalled. My confidence level grew and my enthusiasm in teaching was further magnified. Crossword puzzles were a snap, and every day was pure joy.
I became more aware of my colleagues’ contributions to education and their influences on the lives of individual students. The stimulating leadership ability of John Allen Krout, the counseling of students both academically and personally of Arthur McQuate, and the scholarly activities of Frank Kramer were worthy models. I also began to see my own limitations and then to try the best I could with the tools that my environment and heredity had provided.
As I look back on those rare special days in May, I can’t recall whether the Stone dissolved away or it suddenly disappeared. I returned to my pre-stone age existence. Only occasionally am I able to visit the back roads of my mind. Now, I am not sure that all of this was not just a dream.
- Percy