Cute Old Man

I just had a lovely long conversation with Dr. Logan, my fabulous Renaissance professor. He's like the sweet old grandfather I never had (one of my grandpa's having died before I was more than seven, the other being a physics professor who hates talking about artsy things). Of course, George would never like the idea that I think of him as a grandfather -- no one likes realizing they're old -- but the reality is he's of a different generation. It's kind of amazing actually; we talked a lot about politics, and I discovered he first came to Queen's in 1967 because he didn't like the Vietnam War. Even more amazing was when I'd mention people like Tommy Douglas and he'd say "Oh yeah, I saw him speak some years ago."

He and I commiserated over the decline of academia these days -- i.e., the fact that very few English teachers actually teach literature any more (they're too busy teaching philosophy and psychology and politics and all sorts of other things they don't actually know anything about). He also told me about growing up in small-town Kentucky with a banker for a father, and suddenly he was Jimmy Stewart in It's a Wonderful Life. It's unfortunate that I didn't get to know him sooner -- I wish I could have had more time to talk to mine his vast store of political, historical, and general knowledge.

He's sweet because he genuinely cares about his students, because he reminisces without being boring or rambling, and because he makes an effort to connect despite the fact he's obviously very shy (I think he looked me in the eye maybe once or twice in our hour-and-a-half talk). He is one of the best scholars Queen's currently has, and yet he's so very humble about it. He's just lovely.

[In other, less happy-fuzzy news, the Pig went wee-wee-wee all the way home to Toronto on Monday. I tried to write a post about that earlier, but as with most things which I'm actually pretty upset about, I found it too hard to explain in a way which was neither morose nor cheerful-through-repression. So let me just say this: I'm sad she's gone, the house seems empty, and I don't like change. I'm dealing with it, but I don't like it.]