Gabe Durham
Staff Writer
Laziness is so appealing in the summertime.
The best we can do is trick ourselves into thinking we’re learning.
For instance, the main appeal of seeing National Geographic’s “March of the Penguins” was walking out of the theater feeling like I’d just taken one fifth of a unit from Morgan Freeman.
I’m still a little confused about how the penguins make their babies, but on the whole, I’m pretty sure I could hold my own in a penguin-related discussion such as the one that follows:
Friend No. 1: “Penguins slide on their stomachs!”
Friend No. 2: “Holy no! Penguins walk on their feet!”
Sensible Gabe: “Stop the feuding, y’all! You’re both right.” (Hugs all around.)
In late March, I told you about my ambitious summer reading list. I’m ashamed to report that I failed to read both “Crime and Punishment” and “One Hundred Years of Solitude.” Sorry, scholars.
I did, however, make it through all five “Rocky” films thanks to the good people at Payson Library.
While I can debate at length about why “Rocky V” is superior to “Rocky IV” (we are reminded why we cared about the Italian Stallion in the first place), I’m pretty sure that somewhere around late July, I up and forgot how to read.
With my newfound illiteracy, I learned other important lessons.
I came to appreciate the practice of listening to the same song over and over again.
It felt dangerous because, until this point, I’ve had a secret economic fear that every song reaches a point of diminishing returns in which the listener must toss the song aside forever. But after 46 plays on iTunes, Journey’s “Wheel in the Sky” is as good as ever.
I also learned something sinister: Pepperdine is a den of robbers. At the end of last semester, I left my prize-winning couch, Rosalina, in C suite of Dorm 13 to be picked up in the afternoon.
When I came back with a truck, she was gone. If you have any hot leads as to her whereabouts, I can offer you AT LEAST half a box of Hot Tamales candies.
Finally, I was recently taught that taking a servant-leadership role at Pepperdine means 14-hour days of mind-numbing, redundant inspirational speeches and sweltering junior high-ropes courses that make extra sure I understand everything goes smoother when we all work together.
I seem to have just written a column, so maybe I can still read.
All I’m saying is Pepperdine summers aren’t long enough.
Having had such a productive season full of life lessons, it’s a shame we have to pick up the pieces of our shattered literacy and try to start school again. If we’re not careful, we’ll end up like those kids in Japan who know their teachers better than their fathers.
Now that’s a real shame.
08-29-2005
