Childlike

Chapter 1 A Friend in A Strange Land

This is a humorous tale of a college freshman's spiritual journey. It got a good review at Christianreview of books.com....Enjoy! 

Chapter 1 A Friend in A Strange Land

 I had just gotten settled into my Spanish homework, having finished the first exercise and started the second when he began to screech at the top of his lungs, “Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!  I misspelled eeeeeeee!”

             All eyes in our section of the library turned towards us, staring, as did those below on other floors, for Valley College is built like a three-story shopping mall, donut shaped, and all floors facing inwards.  I let out a laugh, more of a nervous reaction than one of true amusement, and tried to ignore all the other students.

             I had known him from high school or knew of him rather.  I'd see him walking around the campus, not saying much, a grin always on his face, his hair long pale and skinny, matching his body that was also long, pale and skinny.  I may have said “Hi” once or twice, for he knew some of those I knew and occasionally we’d find ourselves in their midst, giving each other an obligatory nod until we both turned back to those we knew, forgetting about each other.

             He was a baseball player all through high school and a soccer player in our senior year, where I was a soccer player my first two years and a chess player the last two so that our paths had never crossed on the playing field.  He was moderately tall, two inches taller than myself, standing six-foot even, and big boned-even though he was skinny looking.  His eyes were blue and close together, his nose non- distinguishable, ending into a large bushy mustache, the kind that looks sticky and wet after he's run 5 miles.

              I couldn’t remember his name, for it had been two years, and I don't think he could remember mine, so we stared at one another after initial “HI’s” and a “did you go to Santa Clara High?”

             “You played baseball, didn’t you?” I had said.

             “Yeah,” he had answered.

             “Soccer too?” he had just nodded.  I had then walked over to the vacant chair across from him, pulled off my backpack and slung it down upon the coffee colored carpet.

             “You’re a friend of Chucky Garcia, aren’t you?”

             “Sure,” I had answered. “We worked at McDonald's together, back in high school, and we now work at the Valley Drug Store.”  He had just nodded then went back to writing in a small notebook, the kind in which a detective would record clues. The pen he was using was designed to fit in the notebook, it was about the size of a large toothpick, ensured to cause writer's cramp.  He went on like that ignoring me, occasionally licking his mustache as he wrote, quite determined to finish what he was doing. 

             I had stooped over and unzipped my navy blue backpack and took out my Spanish text along with a 8 1/2 by 11 spiral notebook and a Bic pen and sat back in the overstuffed chair to do my homework.  We were in the magazine section of the library, with newspapers laid out on tables, posters about reading and books adorning the walls. We were on the top floor of Valley College, in Santa Clara, California, the city that lays claim to being the heart of the Silicon Valley where most of America’s integrated circuits are made.  Valley College specializes in pumping out technical people to supply the expansive needs of growing electronic companies.  I was here to get my general education requirements before transferring to a State University.  I really had no idea what to specialize in, hoping that by the end of two years at Valley, I’d have a clue.

Then the yelling began!

             “You misspelled E?” I asked. “As in the letter E?”

             “Eeeeeeeeeeeeeee!,” he screeched again. “The letter Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”

             I could tell right then, amidst the students, the newspapers and magazines, that this was no ordinary person and definitely not the same quiet skinny kid I occasionally ran across in high school.

             “Eeeeeeeeeeeee!” he screeched again then made another sound with his lips pulled back so you could see his teeth, “Beep! Binnng!” He squealed, then he looked at me and introduced himself.  “Aw, Mick Janelli,” and held out his hand.

             After a moment I took the offered appendage and shook it. “Josh,” I said. “Joshua Nun.”

             “I know,” he mumbled. “I know.” He then tossed away his notebook and grabbed a copy of Mad Magazine, flopped back into his chair and commenced reading, ignoring me staring at the “You are what you read!” poster stapled to the wall above his head.

From the Journal of Joshua Nun……………

I met a guy I kind of knew in High School today. It’s nice to know someone on your first day of school. Hopefully we will be friends. I penned this poem.

You Are What you Read!

Going to get education, I’m going to read me a book

After a two-year vacation, I’m going to take me a look

I’ve been a out drifting, Staring at TV

But now I know, You are what you read!

            Whatever you read!

Some think of just money, Others just want to give back

Some only want plenty, Others don’t see what they lack

I’ve been out drifting, Not knowing what I need

But now I know, You are what you read!

            Whatever you read!

I’m looking for meaning, Could you tell me where it’s at?

I find that I’m dreaming, Of rabbits in a hat

I’ve been out drifting, Blowing in the breeze

But now I know, You are what you read!

            Whatever you read!