For the Doc

I just received the very upsetting news that my favorite professor, the Doc, has thyroid cancer. The Doc is more than just a professor or a teacher who had cool classes, no he's way more than that. The Doc's special. The Doc is The Man. I consider him to be my mentor even though his classes were in religious studies and not English, I consider him to be my friend. He took me to my first symphony and introduced me to God's wife. He encouraged me to attend graduate school and not only apply to Rosemont, but also Harvard. He makes me feel smarter than I am. In the years since taking his classes, I've spent countless late nights in Manella's diner with him chatting, grocery shopping with him at Whole Foods, helping him clean his office (insert laugh here -- as if his office could ever be "clean"), gone to umpteen Peace Mission Banquets, dinner parties, and helped him run errands since he doesn't have a car. I've taken photographs for him for articles he's had published.

The Doc is the type of person that you always see walking around campus, the type of professor who earns a reputation and freshman whisper about how hard his classes are. The Doc's classes are hard, some of the hardest classes I've ever taken, but like all hard classes deeply rewarding. The Doc doesn't tolerate laziness in his classes, not from you, and not from himself. All of his lectures are meticulously planned and mapped out. The Doc's tough. To get an "A" in one of Doc's classes is an accomplishment almost as great as getting your whole degree.

The Doc is funny. The Doc is responsible for great one liners that are still quoted today. "David, do I look like a Hindu?" and "When you get a doctorate, then you can get a muffin." (The latter said to Julian during Sects and Cults when the Doc entered the classroom with his usual snack and Julian flippantly asked if he brought enough for everyone.)

The Doc was given a 141 Cammy Award for being "Man of the Year." The Doc still keeps his tin-foil wrapped barbie doll nailed to a plank of wood in a prominent place in his office -- front and center on his computer monitor.

The fact that the Doc is sick is hard to wrap your head around. The Doc is very healthy -- vegetarian, into macrobiotics, very trim and fit. More than that, he's sort of immoveable. This solid being who you never imagine would get sick with the flu, much less something like cancer. More than the illness, I think what is going to be hard for him is not being busy with people -- his fall classes cancelled, his research and papers put on hold.

The Doc is my friend. The Doc is sick. We want the Doc to get well. I'm asking for more pink bubbles, good thoughts, and prayers. I want the Doc to kick cancer out of his body the same way he kicks dumb arrogant lacrosse players out of his classes. Or as the Doc himself would say, "Peace! Father will provide a course for good health! Father is an on-time type of God! Thank Father. Peace!"