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I attended . . . Oh, let's call it Flanders University, from 1964 - 1968, a
period of considerable change for the venerable old ivy-bedecked
institution. For one thing it became coeducational in 1966 (can you
believe it?) - timed to coincide, I guess, with its bicentennial. At the
time the events I'm going to relate took place there was only one, count
'em, one female undergraduate in the pre-med program, Aura Goldwin.
Needless to say, she was a very determined lady. She was brilliant, of
course, but rather cheerless, generally. This adds a bit of spice to the
events I'm about to relate.
The course Comparative Mammalian Anatomy was, and still is, for all
I know, one of the required courses for pre-meds at Flanders. Back then
it was taught by a very colorful fellow, Mr. Trend.
Have you ever noticed that some people's names match up with what they do
for a living? A lumberman called Forrest. A doctor called Artz. That
kind of thing. Well. . . one of the central themes in Trend's
Comparative Mammalian Anatomy was "trends in evolution." So Mr.
Trend's name and vocation were already something of a joke.
To top it all, old Trend was a rather eccentric chap. He was
independently wealthy. He lived on his private yacht moored at the
Passaic Yacht Club. He always wore a navy blue double-breasted blazer
with gold buttons, a white captain's cap with patent leather brim and gold
braided oak leaves, crisp white trousers (never wrinkled), white oxfords
and red socks, pale blue shirt and red bow tie. He was a study in
red-white-and-blue.
It was variously rumored that. . . he was gay (pretty self-evident
actually). . . he professed to hate women (this rumor arose after he wrote
an inflammatory letter to the student paper, The Scarlet Pimpernel,
opposing coeducational status). . . he lived with his mother on his yacht
(Norman Bates style?). . . he was pathologically shy. . . etc. etc.
etc. He was not well liked or understood - that much was plain.
He was also one of the very best teachers I've ever had. He would arrive
45 minutes before lecture and painstakingly draw beautiful colored chalk
illustrations all over the board. We had to arrive early so we could get
the illustrations on the page before he began lecturing because if we
didn't we just couldn't keep up with him. He won the nickname (among
others) of "Super Chalk."
Well. . . One fine day we'd all arrived, including Aura Goldwin, to get our
drawings into our notes before lecture. The blackboards were covered with
multicolored happy faces. Across the top of the central board in
beautifully executed Roman script was the title of today's lecture:
"Trends in the Development of the Anatomy of the Mammalian Penis." Along
with the subtitle: "A Conservative Organ." The happy faces were all
labeled as representations of the cross sections of various male members
from across the mammalian clan, Homo sapiens among them. It was
all very amusing, almost Warhol-like.
Mr. Trend finished his drawing, moved to the podium and tapped it loudly
with his chalk to get our attention. "Gentlemen," he said, looking
pointedly at Aura who always sat in the front row directly in front of him
just to make a point, "shall we begin?" And so it started.
Throughout his discourse on the day's subject it was occasionally
necessary for Mr. Trend to utter the word "penis." It became evident
within minutes after the lecture began that this was causing him some
significant distress. He had begun to perspire (Mr. Trend did NOT sweat)
which was uncharacteristic of him even during his most flamboyant
excursions back and forth across the front of the lecture hall flitting
from one labeled drawing to the next like some giant, nautical
red-white-and-blue bumble bee.
He began to pause slightly before he uttered the word. Then he took to
blushing when he spoke it. Then he started stuttering, "P-p-p-p-penis."
People began to titter whenever he mouthed the dread syllables. He was
losing it before our eyes. We were amazed. A hush of expectation fell
over the room. Even the tittering stopped.
Finally, while leaning against the lecturne for support and gazing
balefully down at Aura Goldwin, he just couldn't get the word out at all,
"P-p-p-p-p-p-. . . " It was pitiful. I thought he was going to collapse.
He was sweating heavily now and was livid.
He moved behind the lecturne for cover and continued to stutter, trying to
get the word out.
It was at that moment that Aura Goldwin raised her hand.
A parenthetical here: Mr. Trend had always warned us not to interrupt his
lectures with questions. We should write them down and ask them when he
had concluded, IF there was time. Many a pre-med who had broken this rule
had suffered the consequences (a withering look that could turn Medusa to
stone).
All activity in the room ceased as soon as Aura's hand went up. The air
was electric. What would he do to her? We couldn't wait to see.
Well. . . A look of relief spread across Mr. Trend's face. He'd been spared
from having to say the "P" word. He composed himself, moved forward a
step, leaned over the lecturne almost directly above Aura, like God himself
had come to the pulpit, and said in the most saccharine and condescending
voice, "Yes, dear????"
You could have heard a pin drop on the dark side of the moon.
"Penis, sir?" responded Aura with a crooked little, acidic smile.
Mr. Trend rocked back as if he'd been slapped with the business end of a
three-day-old mackerel. All the color drained from him. He staggered a
step or two back from the lecturne. He looked as if he might faint.
By degrees, Mr. Trend regained his composure and his color returned. This
all took only a few seconds, really, but it seemed as if the world had
stopped spinning. Time and disbelief were both suspended.
He moved deliberately back to the lecturne from which he'd been driven. He
leaned as far out over the visibly gloating Aura Goldwin as he could without
tipping over onto her. In the quietest and most angelic tone he said,
"Not right now, thank you, dear."
There was an momentary hesitation among the crowd before the air of the
lecture hall was shattered by the shrill whistles, hooting laughter and
thunderous applause of the assembled pre-meds, Aura Goldwin excepted. She
had shrunk down into her seat and looked as if she might melt and dribble
onto the floor.
Mr. Trend stood at the lecturne basking in the warmth of this adulation
and reflecting all its heat onto poor Aura. She slipped out a side door
during Mr. Trend's standing ovation, muttering something that could not be
heard in the general din, never to be seen in Comparative Mammalian
Anatomy again. Many's the day I've wished I were able to read lips.
I could hazard a guess, but I'm much too polite, and I'm too scared to
ask her! She practices psychiatry in New York City today. After Mr.
Trend, I guess she's ready for anything.
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