“Who are you?” -The Cattepillar, Alice in Wonderland.


A while back someone posted a comment asking who “Doc” was. And I’ve been avoiding answering any such questions. But, I feel like blogging, and short of beating the dead computer horse, this is all I got.

Doc was my first theology professor as an undergrad. I blame it all on him. If it hadn’t been for him, I would have stayed a theatre and English major and who knows what would have happened. As it stands, I had him second semester of my freshman year, in a 100 level theology class that was cross listed as a 300 level gen ed class. So here is little me, irreverent, and sarcastic, sitting in the back of the class, waiting for the rest of the students, all 3rd and 4th year students, to file in.

He announced that he didn’t like freshman and I just smiled, because I’d gotten departmental permission to be in his class, signed by none other than the scary nun who headed the department. I wasn’t going anywhere. And, I suppose, I eventually earned my place in the class. With the exception of asking for and receiving the only extension I would be granted by him in the following 7 semesters, I contributed more than most of my classmates. It was that first class that both cemented my decision to be a theology major, and made me stay in the church. He became my advisor, and when I didn’t have him for class, I would still wander into his office once and a while to talk to him about life.

There’s a lot I lump on his shoulders, but I wouldn’t do it if he didn’t know, and graciously accept. He has become a trusted friend and my mentor academically. I am who I am, in respect to what I got out of college because of him.

Even if he never understood why I insisted on taking as many history classes as I could fit, without declaring a minor, and taking things like Introduction to Creative Writing.

After graduation, I have continued to harass him whenever I’m in Alma matter City and eat the doughnuts he and Mrs. Doc leave for me in the morning.


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