Adrian Pearson - Cow Country

And so over the prattling audience — were they even listening to me? — I thanked Dr. Felch for bringing me to Cow Eye and for trusting me with the planning of this Christmas party as a sure means of resurrecting my legacy after so many failed attempts. And of course for giving me the roll of twenty-dollar bills that I’d since learned did not actually come from official coffers but rather from his own personal retirement account.

I paused to allow the sparse applause to die down. Then I said:

“And of course I need to thank Bessie and Raul for accompanying me on my drive to visit Will Smithcoate in his moment of need. It was a long trip for sure, but I now feel eminently more knowledgeable about the world we live in. About the nature of darkness. And of desiccation. About our shared history and lonely futures. And of course I am much more versed in the difference between male and female orgasm. Please know that it was a sacrifice well worth the wait and that I will be knocking softly on its front door from here on out. Oh, and you’ll surely be happy to know that Professor Smithcoate is doing just fine, all things considered. He is doing just fine and he sends all of you his kind regards…!”

“He does?!”

“Not literally, of course. But in a roundabout sort of way I’m sure he misses you all very much….”

I paused to look up at Dr. Felch, who was waiting in the wings.

“And speaking of missing,” I said, “they tell me there’s happy news to report from the opposite end of the cafeteria where you yourselves once entered this party several hours ago. They tell me we just hit one hundred percent attendance tonight! That’s right, folks….the math faculty have just arrived! The male teachers are dressed as Roman senators. The women instructors are sultry felines. All of which means that for the first time in the long and storied history of Cow Eye Community College — from the first two cows that ever roamed the face of the earth and up to the era of me standing here before you in my sleep-deprived stupor — we have achieved one hundred percent buy-in for an important educational endeavor. We now have one-hundred-percent participation for this party, ladies and gentlemen! And so let me be the first to congratulate you! Yes, congratulations are in order! And with this having been accomplished, we’re now ready to move on to Dr. Felch, who has an important announcement to make to our overcrowded cafeteria. To an award-winning professoriate. Amid a house undivided. As you can see, this party is shaping up to be a total and elaborate success…!”

I paused again.

“Sir? Are you ready for your announcement?”

Dr. Felch nodded and walked up to the dais. Taking the microphone from me, he said:

“Thank you, Charlie!” As the heating unit whirred in the background, and as the disco strobe continued to cast its reflections around the room, and while I celebrated the one-hundred-percent attendance milestone in my mind, Dr. Felch cleared his throat to begin his speech:

“Friends and citizens,” he began. “Friends and citizens of Cow Eye Community College, I address you today not as your college president but as a simple, and very humbled, man….”

*

Before he could finish this sentence a series of shouts rang out from the audience:

“It’s not on!” the audience was shouting.

“What?” said Dr. Felch.

“The microphone….it’s not on! We can’t hear a thing…!”

“Bessie!!!”

Bessie walked briskly up to the front and turned the microphone on. Dr. Felch thanked her. The audience applauded. Now, with the microphone on and the disco strobe spinning and the fake Santa beard bobbing to the rhythm of his words, Dr. Felch began his important speech a second time:

*

“Alright, let’s try this again….” he said. “Friends and citizens! Esteemed colleagues! Residents of Cow Eye Junction — both tenured and non-tenured! Can you hear me? Is this thing on? It is? Great! My fellow educators, tonight I address you not as a college president but as a simple man. For the past thirty years, you see, I have had the distinct honor of being your humble servant. I have devoted my life to public service at this unparalleled institution of higher learning — first as an adjunct in the animal science department, then as a tenured professor and department chair, and finally as your college’s venerable president and chief executive. It has been a glorious time spent here over the years and I assure you it is a period of my life that I will always look back on with fond memories….”

Dr. Felch checked his notes, then continued:

“…Recently, it has begun to occur to me with increasing urgency that the world we live in, just as it so often tends to do, is changing. That our world is becoming an ever more exciting and complex place — complex and exciting in ways that could not have been envisioned even a generation ago. And it has also occurred to me that this is a difficult thing for somebody like me to grasp. And that it should be for the newer generations of young men and younger women to deal with these unanticipated excitements and the many new-fangled complexities that are arising like flies from the trashcans out back of our cafeteria. There comes a time when all people must reach this understanding. And I have reached it. There is a time when we all must come to terms with such realities. And I have come to those very terms. Believe me, I have often considered it my turn to move on toward that peaceful domicile that awaits me at the older part of Cow Eye Junction where the pastures are still untrammeled. Yes, I have often thought of quitting the academic scene. A year ago I had gone so far as to draft an announcement like the one I am delivering tonight. But after talking the matter over with my latest wife, and after a bit more reflection on the perplexed affairs of our college at the time — the impending accreditation visit, the unresolved Christmas party dilemma, the inability to rally our divided faculty around a common vision for our future — I decided to abandon the idea. Now I stand before you for the last time as your humble president: the current, and soon to be former , president of Cow Eye Community College….”

Here Dr. Felch pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his forehead. Then he continued:

“….Along the way, my friends, we have achieved amazing things together. The expansion of our liberal arts program. The re-roofing of the library. Electric typewriters in the vast majority of our departments. A many-fold growth in our enrollment, and an increase in our influence far beyond the vacant field where the apiary now stands. Over the years we have moved mountains and redirected rivers. We have conquered a continent and its appurtenances. We have subdued the vicissitudes of nature. Hell, we have even made the moon our own personal bitch. In short, my time with you has been enjoyable and, I would like to think, not without success. Looking back on the sum of such a long tenure, I would like to think that I am leaving our college in a better position — or at least a less precarious one — than the one you all found yourselves in a few moments ago in Room 2-C….”

Dr. Felch looked up from his notes.

“Joking!” he said. And then:

“…But, seriously, I would like to think that I am leaving our college in a much better position — or at least a less precarious one — than the one I inherited so long ago. Of course it would be impossible, given our mortal fallibilities, for there not to be errors committed along the way. And this has certainly been the case with us. Yes, my friends, we have made many errors along our serpentine path to continuous improvement. For along this path we have sowed seeds that we ourselves have then trampled. We have actively harvested our just rewards only to watch those robust harvests rot in railcars or be covered over in mass graves to stabilize market prices. We have overlooked our native languages in favor of those from abroad. We have sent our sons and daughters — my god, how many of our sons have we banished? — to all ends of our far-flung nation with most of them never to return again. And of course there have been isolated examples of infamy: the venture into soy; conscription and nullification; the many baseless lawsuits and their out-of-court settlements; August sixth and ninth, respectively; and of course the shoddy reconstruction of our campus after the great earthquake and conflagration of twenty-six years ago. Yes, these things are true. All of these things are true, my friends! But as we look back together I hope you can agree that any errors made along the way — no matter how seemingly egregious — were not made intentionally but rather with the best interests of our beloved college in mind….”