Comparative Literature

As a student pursuing a degree in English (My excuse for all the gaffes in my writing here: You get what I'm not paid for!), I never received an entirely complete explanation of the difference between my major and that of Comparative Literature. I did eventually reach two conclusions of my own: 1) Comparative Literature majors were odder than even people in the English program, and 2) Under the New England state schools system that offered reduced tuition for a degree not offered at one's home university, I could've saved a chunk of money switching to Comparative Literature, which wasn't offered at UConn.

One person who did attempt to explain the subtleties of Comparative Literature was fellow mountain bike racer, friend, and the teaching assistant for my discussion section of the Comparative Literature course on children's literature, Theo Padnos. At the first discussion meeting, Theo walked in and, on seeing me, broke into a conversation that lasted a couple minutes until he realized he should probably start the class. He opened with, "Do you guys know, Salem here is really good mountain bike racer!"

Later in that semester, Theo had taken me under his other wing as well, loaning me his old skate skis, teaching me quickly how to use them, and including me on half hour car trips to Northfield Mountain once or twice a week. Theo was something special and unique, which didn't always put my classmates at ease. One day before Theo's arrival and the start of class, they were complaining that Theo wasn't explaining the professor's rather spacey lectures that nobody understood, and they were concerned that this would harm their performance on exams. They asked me what I thought of Theo going his own way in the discussion classes.

I tried to put them at ease, saying a lot of the professor's ideas were hard to understand because they were a wee bit looney, I believed what Theo was teaching likely have more real world value, and ultimately, it was Theo who was grading our exams. I refrained from saying what I was truly thinking, "You know how you all kvetch about Theo before the start of every class? Well, he and I spend an hour in a car together once or twice a week and talk about you!"

I have other fond memories of Theo, like visiting his mom's house in Woodstock, Vermont with him and learning that stainless steel cutlery was not as good as a tarnished, but sharp, high carbon steel knife. He was also our leader for a hike in the White Mountains when my best friend from high school, Steve, asked, part way through the hike, how and when we'd route ourselves back to the parking lot where we started. "Oh, we'll hitchhike." Oh, that was new to us, but in true form, Theo's luck landed, and at the end of our long day, there was a couple loading the only car at our hike's terminus. They were going the right direction and gave us a ride.

After graduation, I'd fallen out of contact with Theo, but heard once he was teaching English in a prison. Then, a few years ago, mutual friend Jeff (AKA Toby, ever since friends watched Quintin Tarantino's Reservoir Dogs. Really, don't ask.) asked if I'd heard about Theo and included a link to a news story. As a correspondent, Theo had been captured by ISIS is Syria, but unlike almost every other captive who'd been beheaded, he was released. After reading the article, I searched further and found a video of him is captivity, and he had assumed an identical pose to the one I recognized from martyrdom videos recorded by suicide bombers. I also learned he'd become fluent in Arabic.

Yes, Theo was always lucky, and that never hurts, but he is also smart. He'd worked to make himself more than one of the foreign invaders. He became human to his captors. It worked. He survived. He wrote a book, about which I just learned and checked out from the Chicopee Library yesterday. I'm looking forward to reconnecting with an old friend, and hey, in the prologue, he even mentions a new road bike he'd bought on a whim shortly before heading to the Middle East!

My own recent foray into 

Comparative Literature

Denouement? Yesterday, just before I reached the library, which was quite a bit out of my typical way, a Chicopee police officer stopped me out of concern about the fiberglass pole sticking sideways from my bike. In over three years back on the bike since being cleared after being hit, I've been riding wide, but that was the first comment from police that wasn't overt approval. I explained that it was only 2 1/2 feet from me, but the law requires four feet, so it wasn't obstructing traffic, so she clarified her concern was that it wasn't safe for me. I was in traffic, and people would hit it. I replied, yes, they do, and I use it precisely because some motorists' judgement is that bad, and I'd much rather they hit the pole than me. She accepted that, and we both continued on our way.

My way immediately behind the library, 

was car free and gorgeous!