2.
My father had a student, Phillip
Imroth,
who stammered throughout childhood.
The Pueblo Public Library owned an Egyptian mummy,
a relic of 19th century imperialism.
The sarcophagus rested in a special room,
open only on Sundays.
As a high school student Imroth worked in the library
under librarian, Clara Knox, an old,
sunk-jawed, blue-haired lady.
One day when Imroth was stammering, struggling
to articulate a thought, Clara Knox said,
“Stop that!” and Phil did stop.
Her evident belief that he could stop
permanently cured his stammer.
When Imroth left Pueblo,
my father stored several boxes of his books in our attic,
rummaging through which I found,
besides such treasures as
The Naked Ape by Desmond Morris
and The Outsider by Colin Wilson,
two boxes of mint-condition early Playboy magazines,
including the one with photos of MM on the beach.
Victor came for an overnight
and we went through all of them
while drinking a mixture of gin, bourbon, and Catawba sherry,
filched from my parents’ liquor cabinet.
I don’t know what Imroth’s reaction was years later
when he got the boxes back,
the valuable Playboys abused, battered,
pages stuck together.
Perhaps my father discretely disposed of them.
Imroth later choked to death in a restaurant,
leaving an attractive wife and 2 children.
who stammered throughout childhood.
The Pueblo Public Library owned an Egyptian mummy,
a relic of 19th century imperialism.
The sarcophagus rested in a special room,
open only on Sundays.
As a high school student Imroth worked in the library
under librarian, Clara Knox, an old,
sunk-jawed, blue-haired lady.
One day when Imroth was stammering, struggling
to articulate a thought, Clara Knox said,
“Stop that!” and Phil did stop.
Her evident belief that he could stop
permanently cured his stammer.
When Imroth left Pueblo,
my father stored several boxes of his books in our attic,
rummaging through which I found,
besides such treasures as
The Naked Ape by Desmond Morris
and The Outsider by Colin Wilson,
two boxes of mint-condition early Playboy magazines,
including the one with photos of MM on the beach.
Victor came for an overnight
and we went through all of them
while drinking a mixture of gin, bourbon, and Catawba sherry,
filched from my parents’ liquor cabinet.
I don’t know what Imroth’s reaction was years later
when he got the boxes back,
the valuable Playboys abused, battered,
pages stuck together.
Perhaps my father discretely disposed of them.
Imroth later choked to death in a restaurant,
leaving an attractive wife and 2 children.
…
In 1967 my family left Pueblo
Pueblo College
had become
Southern Colorado State College
and, partly to escape the necessity of dealing with theater colleagues,
my father accepted a position as Full Professor of English
at Metropolitan State College inDenver
Two or three times during my high school years
I took a bus back toPueblo
I don’t remember how the visits
were arranged, but he was typically
busy with school work and had little time for me.
The last was in our senior year when Victor
was working to be sure of becoming valedictorian of his class.
He beat out a smart girl named Cheryl Copeland,
who felt she deserved the honor
(the same girl whom in Jr High he persuaded
to eat psychedelic heavenly blue morning glory seeds,
so that she was sick in Spanish class).
That night he had to practice singing the Carpenters song,
“We’ve Only Just Begun,” for a friend’s wedding.
To avoid attending the rehearsal, I arranged
to be dropped off at the public library
to work on a paper for my English class inDenver
Making little progress on the paper, I decided to walk back early, but,
mistaking a turn, found myself walking fast up an unfamiliar street.
I kept walking for a long time
in a panicked state.
Finally, a truck driver gave me a lift to a familiar part of town.
I got back to Victor’s house
just as he was getting back from the rehearsal.
He was relieved to see me.
My experience of getting lost had saved him the embarrassment
of leaving me alone by myself for hours while he
stayed at the wedding bash.
Southern Colorado State College
and, partly to escape the necessity of dealing with theater colleagues,
my father accepted a position as Full Professor of English
at Metropolitan State College in
Two or three times during my high school years
I took a bus back to
I don’t remember how the visits
were arranged, but he was typically
busy with school work and had little time for me.
The last was in our senior year when Victor
was working to be sure of becoming valedictorian of his class.
He beat out a smart girl named Cheryl Copeland,
who felt she deserved the honor
(the same girl whom in Jr High he persuaded
to eat psychedelic heavenly blue morning glory seeds,
so that she was sick in Spanish class).
That night he had to practice singing the Carpenters song,
“We’ve Only Just Begun,” for a friend’s wedding.
To avoid attending the rehearsal, I arranged
to be dropped off at the public library
to work on a paper for my English class in
Making little progress on the paper, I decided to walk back early, but,
mistaking a turn, found myself walking fast up an unfamiliar street.
I kept walking for a long time
in a panicked state.
Finally, a truck driver gave me a lift to a familiar part of town.
I got back to Victor’s house
just as he was getting back from the rehearsal.
He was relieved to see me.
My experience of getting lost had saved him the embarrassment
of leaving me alone by myself for hours while he
stayed at the wedding bash.
…
On another visit (or was it the same?),
we rode aroundPueblo
Joe drove. I rode in the back seat.
We had a case of 8-oz Coors cans,
plus a quart of vodka that we passed around.
Luckily I’d eaten 2 dinners that night, one
at Victor’s and another at his friend Jim McGraw’s,
or I might have been poisoned to death.
My tongue must have loosened up
because Victor later said to me,
“You’ve got the inner security of a glass of water, you know that?”
…
we rode around
Joe drove. I rode in the back seat.
We had a case of 8-oz Coors cans,
plus a quart of vodka that we passed around.
Luckily I’d eaten 2 dinners that night, one
at Victor’s and another at his friend Jim McGraw’s,
or I might have been poisoned to death.
My tongue must have loosened up
because Victor later said to me,
“You’ve got the inner security of a glass of water, you know that?”
…
Victor hooked up with his high school
sweetheart,
Gayle, while I was there.
The three of us spent an awkward afternoon together.
She began writing to me inDenver
sending perfumed envelopes with her
return address written in purple ink on the back flap.
She was cute, dark-haired,
somewhat chubby.
Victor and I had both had crushes on her in Jr. high,
and now Victor was probably having sex with her.
Gail once wrote that she wished I was her boyfriend
instead of Victor.
She even invited me to take a bus toPueblo
rescinded at the last minute —
Victor had finally forbidden it.
Gayle, while I was there.
The three of us spent an awkward afternoon together.
She began writing to me in
sending perfumed envelopes with her
return address written in purple ink on the back flap.
She was cute, dark-haired,
somewhat chubby.
Victor and I had both had crushes on her in Jr. high,
and now Victor was probably having sex with her.
Gail once wrote that she wished I was her boyfriend
instead of Victor.
She even invited me to take a bus to
rescinded at the last minute —
Victor had finally forbidden it.
…
Victor visited me a few times in Denver too —
once after taking part in a program inBoulder
for supremely talented high school students.
The first thing they did was to test the participants.
Victor had the best overall score, although he didn’t
score first in any individual subject.
On a field trip during that program
he was stung by a bee, had an allergic reaction,
and woke up with an IV tube in his arm.
On one of the visits he said that he thought of me
not just as his past but his future too.
I was happy that he felt that way, but he
seemed to have trouble relating to me,
and in my passivity I always
made him take all the initiative.
In probably my last conversation with him for 4 years
Victor told me about his father’s death.
The old man died hard, delirious at the end,
barking out commands —
“Go out to the shed and bring me the spool!” —
blowing his top when no one obeyed.
In that conversation Victor allowed as how Victor Hugo Sr.
had probably been, besides an alcoholic,
a certifiable paranoid schizophrenic —
but a kind and generous father just the same.
“He would have done anything in the world for me,” Victor said.
once after taking part in a program in
for supremely talented high school students.
The first thing they did was to test the participants.
Victor had the best overall score, although he didn’t
score first in any individual subject.
On a field trip during that program
he was stung by a bee, had an allergic reaction,
and woke up with an IV tube in his arm.
On one of the visits he said that he thought of me
not just as his past but his future too.
I was happy that he felt that way, but he
seemed to have trouble relating to me,
and in my passivity I always
made him take all the initiative.
In probably my last conversation with him for 4 years
Victor told me about his father’s death.
The old man died hard, delirious at the end,
barking out commands —
“Go out to the shed and bring me the spool!” —
blowing his top when no one obeyed.
In that conversation Victor allowed as how Victor Hugo Sr.
had probably been, besides an alcoholic,
a certifiable paranoid schizophrenic —
but a kind and generous father just the same.
“He would have done anything in the world for me,” Victor said.
…
Then we went to college and lost track
of each other.
He went toSt. Olaf
College in Northfield ,
MN
and a full-ride scholarship.
Practically the only trace of Victor on the internet now
is his name on the 1973 St. Olaf Phi Beta Kappa list.
I went to theUniversity of Colorado ,
and spent 2 and a half years gazing up at the icy flatirons from the student union,
or walking through the snowyBoulder
For a long time I could hardly talk to people.
I undertook ambitious, abortive research projects
on ancient Greek religion and early Christianity.
I learned that if I wasn’t going to class I should
be sure to have the professor sign a drop form before the deadline passed.
Finally, I moved back toDenver
I spent a semester studying piano;
watched bees create energy fields over plots of flowers in the yard,
or robins in the rain shaking water off their heads.
I didn’t get into music school,
but returned to my English major at the CU Denver branch.
With the stress of living by myself removed,
and having been scared into humility,
I did well. I finally even managed
to have sex with a real live woman.
That’s another story.
He went to
and a full-ride scholarship.
Practically the only trace of Victor on the internet now
is his name on the 1973 St. Olaf Phi Beta Kappa list.
I went to the
and spent 2 and a half years gazing up at the icy flatirons from the student union,
or walking through the snowy
For a long time I could hardly talk to people.
I undertook ambitious, abortive research projects
on ancient Greek religion and early Christianity.
I learned that if I wasn’t going to class I should
be sure to have the professor sign a drop form before the deadline passed.
Finally, I moved back to
I spent a semester studying piano;
watched bees create energy fields over plots of flowers in the yard,
or robins in the rain shaking water off their heads.
I didn’t get into music school,
but returned to my English major at the CU Denver branch.
With the stress of living by myself removed,
and having been scared into humility,
I did well. I finally even managed
to have sex with a real live woman.
That’s another story.
