Oscar Meyers Part 2: Academia By Lazlo Zalezac Copyright (C) Lazlo Zalezac, 2005 Chapter 25 Beth Carter, carrying a stack of papers, walked through the halls of the college in which she had spent a considerable percentage of her childhood. Every hall, every room, and every piece of decor brought back memories. The majority of memories were good, but there were also memories associated with the loss of her father. She was headed towards the first year dining room smiling at the thought of her destination. Her grandfather, the Reverend Leroy Jones, always insisted on meeting people in the first year dining room. She didn’t quite buy his assertion that the atmosphere was about as close to the Garden of Eden as existed on earth. It was true that the sense of sin associated with nudity was eliminated very quickly among the students. It was also true that he enjoyed looking at the young women. She entered the dining room and immediately spotted a lone red robed Druid seated at one of the corner tables. She walked over to his table and took a seat next to him while placing the stack of papers on the chair next to her. Once she was settled, she took a moment to examine him. He had a short beard that was in serious need of a trim. Without turning to face her, he watched her out of the corner of his eye without saying a word. Finally, she said, “So you are the person that my little brother is talking about all the time.” “You must not be talking about me,” Oscar said with a wry grin. He was quiet for a moment as a puzzled look crossed her face and then said, “If I recall correctly, he doesn’t talk about me so much as he asks about me.” “True,” Beth admitted with a laugh. Everyone in the family was fully aware of William’s fascination with Oscar Meyers. She was sure that part of it was due to the future he saw for Oscar, but that wasn’t the entire story. “So tell me about him.” Beth laughed and said, “I was warned you were going to do that.” “Oh? Who warned you?” “Lucy, grandpa, Ling, Kelly, Ed, Eddie, William…” Oscar laughed and turned to address her directly. He said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Beth Carter.” “It’s nice to finally meet you, Oscar Meyers. It is very seldom that I get to meet people who are destined to bring peace to the Middle East,” Beth said with a smile. She wondered what made her brother think this little man could do what no one else had been able to accomplish. She added, “In fact, I would have to say this is a first for me.” A very serious expression crossed Oscar’s face. He looked at Beth for a moment and then said, “Don’t discount your grandfather’s efforts.” “I’m sorry. You’re right. In my defense, I tend to think of him as grandpa and not as the Reverend Leroy Jones,” Beth said. She recalled that William said that her grandfather wouldn’t survive the ordeal ahead. The thought saddened her and she hoped in this one case that William was wrong. “That’s all right. I tend to think of him in a grandfatherly way. He’s a nice man,” Oscar said. He picked up his cup of coffee and swirled the cup around while watching the liquid inside. The sloshing surface reflected the lights from above in fascinating patterns. Looking up, he said, “Most of the really good people I’ve met are family, classmates, or Druids. I didn’t know many people until I began my service. Since then, I’ve seen a lot of very bad people. I’ve met some very good people. Your grandfather is one of the very best of the men who I’ve had the privilege of meeting.” “I have to agree with you,” Beth said. “From the way he talks about John Carter, I would have loved to have met your father. You and your whole family paid a horrible price for his greatness,” Oscar said. “It was a high price,” Beth said wondering what he was trying to tell her. Looking over at her, he said, “I imagine if I’m successful in bringing peace to the Middle East, a lot of people will be comparing me to him. I’d appreciate it if you would let your family know that I do not believe that anything I have done is comparable to what he did. He was a good man before he ever began his service. I wasn’t.” “You weren’t?” Beth asked looking at him in surprise. “I was a klutz.” “That doesn’t mean that you weren’t a good man before you began your service.” “I never had a chance to be a good person. I was too busy breaking things to ever solve anyone else’s problems,” Oscar answered with a laugh. His voice took on a much more serious tone when he said, “I actually hurt a lot of people by accident. It wasn’t that my intentions were bad. Intentions had nothing to do with it.” Beth studied Oscar for a minute trying to figure out where he was headed with the conversation. She said, “So you are telling me that you are not John Carter.” “Right. If William is correct…” “He’s always right,” Beth interrupted with a knowing nod. “I will bring peace to the Middle East. Once I do, people will compare me to John Carter. I just want you to know that I know I am not John Carter,” Oscar said. Confused by his insistence that he wasn’t John Carter, Beth asked, “Why are you telling me this?” “Great magic requires a great price,” Oscar said. A light went off in her head and she asked, “And you expect to have to pay that price?” “I will pay the price,” Oscar answered. The conversation quickly came to an end when the Reverend Leroy Jones walked over to the table. His pace was slow and he relied on the cane more than usual. With a groan, he sat down at the table. Hugging Beth to his side, he said, “Hello, my little Beth. How’s my favorite architect doing?” “I’m the only architect you know,” Beth said with a grin. Batting her eyelashes at him, she said, “Now if you were to call me your favorite granddaughter, that would be something.” The old man laughed and winked at Oscar. He said, “Oscar, I’ve got two granddaughters and they’ve been trying to get me to tell them which one of them is my favorite ever since they could talk. Let me tell you a little secret. Beth is my favorite oldest granddaughter and Betsy is my favorite youngest granddaughter. Don’t tell them that, though. I’d hate for them to think I had favorites.” Laughing at the open secret, Beth said, “You’re my favorite grandfather.” “You are good for an old man’s heart,” he said. Glancing over at Oscar, he asked, “Tell me, did he ask you about William?” “It was basically the first thing out of his mouth,” she answered discounting the brief introduction. “I tell you, that Hermaphrodite God and Goddess of yours is a funny little thing with a strange sense of humor. I know the only reason that William and Oscar are going to serve it is to give everyone splitting headaches with their questions about each other,” the elderly man said with a wink at Beth while shaking a finger at Oscar. Nodding his head, he said, “We’re all going to end up with two brains. That’s what a splitting headache does to you.” Putting both hands over his mouth as though he had accidentally spilled a secret, Oscar said, “Our plot has been exposed. So tell me about William.” The Reverend Leroy Jones laughed. He rested his hands on the head of his cane and said, “I’ve never seen two people so curious about each other.” Wanting to change the subject, Beth said, “So what kept you? I expected you a half an hour ago.” “The vultures kept me. I’m not even dead yet and they’re picking at my bones,” answered the man with more than a little irritation in his voice. The horde of reporters had followed him from the airport to the Druid College. They had tried to keep him from entering with their questions. He leaned over and said, “I really appreciate you coming here like this, Beth. We have to keep Oscar a secret.” “I’ll take every chance I can get to see you, Grandpa.” “You’re a dear girl.” “Thanks, Grandpa.” Looking over at Oscar, he said, “I hate to say this, but that is one ugly beard you’ve been growing. That’s going to take some time to get used to.” “It finally quit itching,” Oscar said rubbing his cheek with two fingers. He asked, “So why did you three announce to the world that someone was going to bring peace to the Middle East?” “We’re unstirring the pot.” “What does that mean?” Oscar asked, “Unstirring isn’t even a word.” “The bad guys are trying to stir up trouble. We’re trying to undo what they are doing.” “How does the announcement fit into that plan?” “We are trying to separate the bad guys from the good guys. It is our hope that the good guys will look forward to peace and try to help it come about. Maybe, just maybe, they’ll help us get rid of the ones who don’t want peace,” the elderly man said. “Is it working?” “A little. We have a few more religious leaders talking to us. It is clear that the world is becoming increasingly more polarized over the chance of peace,” he said. It wasn’t the number of people who wanted peace that was the problem. The problem was that the minority of people who were against it were violently against it. A handful of them were able to intimidate thousands of people. Shaking his head, he added, “It’s hard to believe that there are people who prefer war to peace.” Looking back on her history of war class, Beth said, “It’s not surprising to me. For a lot of people, war is a way of life. Without war, their lives have no meaning.” Looking over at Oscar, the Reverend Leroy Jones said, “Perhaps the warrior might want to comment on what makes a man hate other men enough to live in a perpetual state of war?” Surprised by the suggestion, Oscar was silent while he considered his thoughts on the matter. He said, “I never hated my enemy. I was disgusted by their warped world view, but I never hated them. I never planned an operation in which I knew non-combatants would be involved. I can not say that about those I faced in battle.” “Are they motivated by hatred or reason?” “Many are, but some aren’t.” “So is it a lifestyle?” “For some, it is a lifestyle. I’m sure they would fight without regard to what reason was being given,” Oscar finally said. “How about you?” the Reverend asked. “I didn’t particularly enjoy fighting. I’ve been happy not having to fight, but I miss serving the Gods and Goddesses in an active manner,” Oscar answered. Looking at the religious leader, he added, “I never found my life defined by battle. My life has been defined by my service.” “And how do you think the apostles defined their lives?” Beth winked at Oscar and, rising from her seat, said, “I believe that class has begun. I’ll talk to you later.” “Don’t forget that we have to give a show for the press,” the elderly man said. When he was ready to leave, Beth would escort him out for a very public farewell. That should help convince the press that she was the reason he had stopped by the Druid College. He was sure that he would have to make a public statement of some sort, but he would worry about that later. “I haven’t forgotten. I have nefarious plans to use it as an opportunity to get you to say who your favorite granddaughter is,” Beth said in a teasing voice. “Get along, you little scamp.” Four hours later, Oscar had covered the lives of the apostles in terms of what the New Testament said about them and what legend said happened after the events of the Bible. The legends, coupled with the historical record, said a lot about the apostles. He was about to comment that his impression of them had not changed when he was handed a stack of loose papers. It took him a moment to realize that Beth must have brought them to the table since he had not seen the pile of papers until that moment. Looking at the stack, he asked, “What’s this?” “That, young man, is the Apocrypha. These are the early writing of the Christians that did not make it into the Bible. There were thirteen apostles and the Bible contains only the records of four of them. The Apocrypha are attributed to the rest of the apostles and other close followers of Jesus.” Oscar stared at the stack of papers. The title, Gospel of Mary, on the topmost papers suggested that he was in for some interesting reading. Recalling an earlier analogy of collecting biographies of John Carter in a single book, he said, “Let me guess; the followers of those four apostles were the ones who selected what was included in the New Testament.” “There are some who would accept that as an explanation for the way the books of the Bible were chosen,” he answered. He added, “I must warn you that some of them are incomplete. There were concerted attempts to destroy all copies of these Gospels. In some cases, all that remain are fragments of very old copies.” “I wonder what Ed Biggers would make of the attempt to bury opinions that run counter to popular opinion,” Oscar said. “He would say that the truth is a harsh mistress. I think he understands better than most why a man would destroy that which runs counter to his world view.” Smiling at the elderly man, Oscar said, “I made a little observation that I thought I would pass by you.” “What?” “In the Old Testament, all of those who spoke for God had their authority established by describing their bloodline. The bloodlines of John the Baptist and Jesus are established in the New Testament, but not the bloodlines of the Apostles.” The Reverend Leroy Jones slowly rose from his chair. Once he had stood, he touched the wooden cross that hung from his neck. Seeing that he had Oscar’s attention, he said, “That’s an interesting observation and one that goes far to support your idea that they were a bunch of squabbling fools. I could suggest that it says something significant about the differences between those who serve the Father and those who serve the Father through the Son.” “I apologize,” Oscar said realizing the elderly man would not have been able to trace his bloodline back to ancient times. “No need, my young friend. It is an observation that I have never made. None the less, I do find comfort in it,” the Reverend Leroy Jones said. Jesus, through the Apostles, had opened the door of service to those who didn’t have the proper bloodlines. Nodding his head, Oscar said, “I will read this with an open mind.” “You will be meeting Farzin bin Saud in two weeks. Give him my regards. I will see you when I see you.” “Okay,” Oscar said. He watched the elderly man hobble out of the dining room wondering how much longer he would live. He looked down at the stack of papers thinking about what they represented. Were they the stories of cranks and crackpots? Were they stories of the quiet followers? There was a huge mountain of research ahead of him. Oliver sat down across from Oscar. In a quiet voice, he said, “He’s getting old.” “Yes, he is.” “He’s in pretty good shape for a man approaching ninety.” “Imagine the changes he’s seen in his life,” Oscar said thinking about all of the events of the past ninety years. “Ever talk to him about that?” “No. He’s pretty single-minded when it comes to teaching me,” Oscar said. Oliver smiled and said, “You can be pretty singled-minded yourself. Perhaps if you quit bugging him about William, you would have a chance to talk about other matters.” “Point taken,” Oscar said. “Farzin bin Saud will be waiting for you in two weeks,” Oliver said. “It is hard to believe that another year has almost passed,” Oscar said. He touched his chest where the Medallion should have been hanging and sighed. Three years without the Medallion. He hadn’t even worn the Medallion for that long and he missed it. “You miss it,” Oliver said upon noticing the gesture. “Yes, I miss it.” Oscar ran a hand through his beard. Amused, Oliver watched Oscar play with his beard and said, “That sure is one ugly beard you’ve grown.” “Remind me some time to comment upon one of your particularly unpleasant features,” Oscar said with a grin. He gestured for Dana, one of the waitresses who had worked the first year dining room since the day the college had opened its doors. She stopped at the table and smiled at him. Like most of the people who worked in the first year dining room, she was wearing nothing more than an apron. In a cheerful voice, she asked, “What can I get you, Oscar?” “A chocolate milkshake, Dana.” “I’ll be right back with it,” Dana said before turning away to prepare his milkshake. Oscar turned to Oliver and said, “Have you ever thought about how amazing it is that the people who work with the first years have chosen to work nude?” “Not since I first came here,” Oliver said. That kind of dedication by the staff had puzzled him initially. “Consider that most of them are in their forties and fifties, yet they are willing to walk around without clothes when surrounded by naked people in their early twenties. It is an amazing testament to their self confidence,” Oscar said. Raising an eyebrow, Oliver said, “Did you know that the staff fight for positions in the first year dining room?’ “I was not aware of that,” Oscar answered. He wondered why that was the case. When the waitress returned with the chocolate shake, Oscar asked, “Do you like working here?” “Yes, it is a very good job. The pay is good, the hours are good, and the students are friendly,” she answered. “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable working with the sixth year students?” Looking down at her body, she smiled at the sight. Her breasts hung down and she had stretch marks. It was not the body of a twenty year old woman, but she had come to accept it. She said, “I’d have to give up walking around half naked all day. What would be the fun in that?” “None, I guess,” Oscar answered. Oliver said, “Oscar is puzzled why people want to work in the first year dining room.” “Ah. There are lots of reasons. Oliver brings all of the nice visitors in here and you never know who you’re going to meet. I’ve met some very interesting people working here. That’s one reason, but another one is that we get to know the students while they are experiencing a lot of growth. Some of you guys are going to be famous. When I see you on the television, I’ll be able to think back to when you were walking around with everything hanging out. It’s a nice reminder that even the famous are people too,” Dana said. “Really?” “Yes. It’s funny because while only a few of the students become Druids, almost all of them become important. Working here, you get to a point where you can spot the difference between graduates from here and other places. There is always a thoughtful introspective tone of our people even when they are announcing something significant. You don’t hear them boasting or acting overly important,” she said. Oscar thought it was interesting that she thought of them as ‘our people’ and not as the students. It suggested a sense of belonging that was unusual. Instead of commenting on his observation, he said, “I never noticed that.” “Sometimes when I’m watching television and there’s some smarmy guy talking like he’s the most important person in the world, I just wonder how he would act in here with his private parts hanging out there for everyone to see. I’m sure that they’d be a lot less boastful. At least, that’s what I think,” she said. “You take a lot of pride in our people,” Oliver said. She smiled and said, “I like to think that I’m part of the reason why these kids are modest even when they become famous in the future. That’s why I like working the first year dining room.” “We are lucky to have you.” Dana frowned for a moment and then looked at Oscar. She said, “I like to think that even though this old body isn’t fresh and young like theirs, the fact that I’m naked comforts them a little. Did it help you at all?” “It helped tremendously,” Oscar answered looking her in the eye. With a smile, he said, “I remember the first few days here. All of us were very embarrassed and uncomfortable. I’d have to say that having you and others of the staff walking around as if nothing was unusual allowed many of us to accept the situation.” She laughed and said, “I remember when you came here. You ran out of here with a napkin over your face screaming. You were the first one to have sex in here. I don’t think you needed much help coming to grips with the situation.” “It was all an act. I was so nervous,” Oscar said shrugging his shoulders. He remembered walking around with an erection most of the day. Laughing at him, she said, “You’re a good actor. Did you ever consider a career in movies?”