Dr. Richard M***** died over the weekend. That means nothing to you, and in fact, when my friend shoved the obituary in my face, it meant nothing to me, either. However, as I read, I realized that this was a man I had known only as "Chub" several years ago, at the real Loser's Lounge. He was a nice older guy who always sat on the same stool and drank whiskey and Cokes. We first became acquainted the semester I took anatomy & physiology: it was kicking my ass. I had managed to maintain a 3.8 GPA in addition to a 40 hour workweek up to that point, but a&p was threatening to ruin that. Because the bar was close to my job, I would often go in there for lunch and study until I had to go to work. One day, I just lost it, and sat at my table, crying over my books. Chub walked over, sat down, and calmly picked up the book. When I looked at him, he had a really gentle smile on his face, and he said, "I've been watching you for weeks. You're as stubborn as a goddamned mule, and if you really put your mind to this, you'll be fine". He glanced at the page I was on, and began asking me what was so difficult that it would make me cry. I told him, and he began drawing on a napkin, illustrating what I couldn't grasp. Seeing the image there, it was so clear, and I was embarassed that I hadn't understood before. He explained that I was obviously a "visual" learner, and the book had few illustrations. After that, I met Chub daily and he drew pictures, complete with labels, and we'd chat. I knew he was from somewhere "out east", and that he had a son and two grandchildren here in town. When I asked him what he did for a living, he looked a little sad and said, "I'm retired". It never occurred to me that he had been a well-respected professor of biology at an ivy league school. Looking back, I can't believe that I didn't guess that he had a background in education; he was so patient and knowledgeable. But, if you've spent much time in bars, you know that there's someone there who knows a lot about almost any subject. He might be a garbage collector, but he can intelligently discuss the coming-of-age rituals of some tribe in the Amazon with an anthropologist. I passed a&p with a B (not perfect, but sometimes you have to accept your limitations), thanks to Chub. I was so happy the day I got my final grade, and I took it in and showed it to him. It was the only time I ever saw him really happy; he hugged me and told me I had worked hard and deserved it. My last year of college, I spent very little time at Loser's; I had an intense internship and then student teaching. But, whenever I could find the time, I would stop by to say "hi" to the regulars, including Chub. They were all glad to see me, and we'd share dirty jokes and gossip. But, Chub was genuinely interested in what I was doing and learning. He would pat my arm and say, "You'll be ok; you like the kids, and that's the most important thing. Kids are like animals- they know who's real and who's fake". His words always gave me comfort, but I never told him. They tore Loser's down about two years ago, and I haven't seen any of the guys since. When I went to the funeral, I met Chub's son. He recognized me (surprising, because I'd never met him), and he told me how much it had meant to his father to "be teaching again". I must have looked surprised, because he told me that his father had been a biology professor at a prominent east-coast college, but was forced to resign after he had an affair with his graduate assistant. He told me that Chub had gone to my college graduation, and had a photo of me receiving my diploma in his wallet. I stood there in shock, finally sobbing out, "I never knew". His son smiled, the same gentle smile his dad had, and patted my arm. He said, "You helped him as much as he helped you", which of course made me cry harder. I guess the moral of the whole story is, well, I'm not really sure- maybe that you only know as much about another person as he/she will share with you. Or, maybe that we should tell the people who mean something to us that they are important. Or, maybe that you shouldn't judge a book by its cover... I don't know...