SPECIAL CIRCUMSTANCES

WHY HE'D NEVER BEEN HURT

Tucker Bedford had been in love, for the first time, when he went-away for College; that had been in 1968. Compared to many/most of the freshmen matriculating that Fall, Tucker just might have been a Redneck. His new girlfriend was from Atlanta; she had the most-attractive chestnut-brown hair[with a spooky sort of wave in it], that was identical, in color, to the dreamiest eyes on his planet. She took much-harder courses than he did; she was a sophomore, but had come up at age 17, just that prior Fall-semester. She was now living off campus, and her Dad had bought her a new car. Tucker never felt out-classed, but he couldn't afford anything presentable to drive, while he was so far from home,...  and from work.

They had both stayed at school that first summer together, but Tucker had lived in her place[because the Campus had been too damn quiet].  Their bust-up, that second summer, when she had gone home, on 'urgent family-business,' had probably been inevitable[He only knows as much now, in his 'dotage.']

That first summer, she had begun teaching him to read Greek; she made all that extra-work fun for him; he couldn't wait for his last class to end, and then would sprint off-campus, towards their love-nest[panting with excitement]. Those hot-classes were interminable, but the balance of those balmy-days whooshed-past them in a blur.

She had posed a serious question, over a cut-crystal goblet of Tucker's favorite new beverage; Manishcewitz Concord Grape table wine.

"You are 19/years-old, and you've never been injured...  no broken bones, trips to the ER, to get stitches,...  " She purposely rose, walked to their front window, and continued[as if speaking to the out-of-doors she saw out there], "Not even a 'broken-heart.'"

She took her seat, across the breakfast-table from TUCKER; he was finishing his rich, buttered, toasty bagel. The rest of it, was delivered rather officiously; "Have you ever suspected that there may be a reason for all your good-fortune?"

She had spent hours-on-end, dragging him through the literature[the University-library was a quiet-place to study, but their collection of dog-eared/volumes left the scholar something to desire]; since she had attended a Hebrew school, starting after her third-grade classes, and ending in time to walk home before sunset, she could showy me more about the problems I would encounter, translating Greek poetry, into English.

Psalms 121 bears no other title than "A Song of degrees;" it tells of the peace of God's house, and the guardian care of the Lord. From the constant recurrence of the word keep, we are led to name this song "a Psalm to the keeper of Israel." She told him that normally, the New Testament would be the ideal-choice for a student wrangling with translation-difficulties; 1)availability of both Greek & English-versions[remember, in 1969, there was no world wide web], 2)familiarity with the subject-matter[I wished!] & 3)no poems. Her familiarity with Hebrew-texts wasn't much help for TUCKER; neither was the familiarity of those hypnotic eyes peeking through her bangs.

There was a cadence, when she read from the TORAH-equivalent, whether a Psalm, some Proverbs or extended Lamentations[one author he was instructed]; no such-music was apparent in his KJV,...  not even Psalms 121. He often thought of all that lost-culture, when he swam-laps in the heated-pool[PE-requirements for his Bachelors in Anthropology].

TUCKER couldn't count all the times he had solved 'problems,' while humming some pop-tune, and losing-count of the laps he had swum. He began to theorize about the nature of all man's knowing. Some days, some kid from the next period, would have to shoo-him out of his lane; late for Anthro 101,...  AGAIN!

Knowledge poured into TUCKER, as soon as he 'decided' that it was arriving from some 'exterior' source; ask,...  and you SHALL receive! He should have asked about that 'family business;' she married her dam cousin.