Even more wonderful, the person calling me was my friend from St. Bona's, Jack Sprat. (Actually Mazurak, but we called him Sprat, which is much more fun to say.) The conversation began thusly:
JoBiv: Hello?
Sprat: Hello there
JoBiv: Um... hi...
Sprat: Is this JoBiv?
JoBiv: Yes...
Sprat: This is Jack
JoBiv: Sprat?
Sprat: Sprat!
JoBiv: Whoa... Hi Sprat!!
Sprat: Mambo #5 came on the radio, so I started dancing in my kitchen, slidin' around and acting like an idiot, and I thought of you and had to call you.
JoBiv: Is that a compliment?
Ahh Sprat... He always works this way. He and I became friends because we both write poetry, love jazz music, sang in choir together, and spent a lot of time in the media wing of our college, where both The BonaVenture (newspaper) and The Laurel (literary magazine) came to life through magic, caffeine-induced hysteria and tomfoolery. Jack is one of those journalists who wishes he could be a poet full time, but alas, this does not pay the bills. His poems are very good, and he always begins his explanations of them with, "I was walking out in the woods, and I was inspired by..."
It's fun to be around a person who frequently runs head-on into inspiration, and these people tend to call me when inspired by something, and the something is always amusing.
I should mention that many a late night found Jack, JoBiv, Shane and other hangers-on rubbing our eyes, eating Tim Horton's Timbits (doughnut holes), and giggling ferociously in that media wing. When Sprat was inspired by some type of music (I particularly remember the night of the Joe Williams cd), he'd bring it to my magazine office and make me listen. Not that I minded. On the night o' Joe Williams, I believe we broke out in swing dancing among the newslings. Jolly good fun.
JoBiv: Did the dancing involve jazz hands?
Sprat: It did, and sort of a nice sidestep move with a half-jazz hand flutter out to the side.
JoBiv: Holy crap, Jack. You're killing me... (giggling uncontrollably)
Sprat: I had an invisible partner at one point, too, and boy was she limber...
The last time I saw Sprat... Well, it could have been Shane's funeral, but I don't remember anyone who was there, really. So many faces. I know we talked on the phone around then, and shared some memories. The last time I remember seeing Sprat, it was the weekend of my graduation. He was a year ahead, and so I was hugely surprised to see him walking through the main doors of The Hickey Dining Hall. (No really, it's called The Hickey Dining Hall.) At the time, I remember that my parents were hovering on both sides of me, my brothers were getting drinks, we were all standing around, and I was miserable with the anxiety of graduating and the sappy sweetness of my family being so proud of me, beating all of my older brothers to a college degree. And then Sprat burst in, gave me a big hug, and told me he was there to make sure that his friend Ernest, an exhange student from... was it Singapore?... graduated and got on the plane back home before he could officially start a life of crime in the states.
Sprat: I'm in Mississippi now
JoBiv: What the hell? Closer to Alison? (girlfriend of 4 yrs)
Sprat: Yep, starting a job tomorrow at [enter some paper's name here].
JoBiv: That's craziness! I mean, good for you!
Sprat: Y'know they call Jacksonville "Jack-town," so I had to move here.
Excellent logic, Sprat. Excellent logic.
So today's neighbor blog comes from Jack's roomie from over the summer, a guy named Pat. His blog is mighty smart and humorous, and Jack has some cameos in the summer months. According to Sprat, I have to like Pat's stuff because I also have a blog (which he has never read, only hearing about it last night). Okay, and because he thinks we're both funny. I haven't been too funny lately, however I think my chat with Sprat has lightened my mood considerably. Don't you?
Sprat: I'm a little worried, because I've heard they don't like Yankees down here.
JoBiv: That's scary country, Sprat.
Sprat: I know. And it's serious bible belt country, too...
JoBiv: Did I mention the word "scary?"
Sprat: So I think I'll make up a bumper sticker or a t-shirt or something that says, "Jesus loves Yankees too."
Ahh Sir Spratly... You are brilliant.
1 comment:
The tee shirt made me laugh out loud.
Just as long as it isn't in a Yankees baseball font, that is.
Jo, this is faboo writing.
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