Busy Dad – Busted

My parents, Oby and Jane Easley, were married on August 8, 1946. Married on the heels of World War II my parents soon relocated to Starkville, Mississippi where my dad, a World War II [WWII] veteran, enrolled at Mississippi State College under the newly-instituted GI Bill.

State College, after having nearly closed during WWII due to declining student enrollment, was now booming with the return of hundreds upon hundreds of WWII veterans. Many of the newly-enrolled students were also newly-married who introduced into the world many newly-borns, now collectively and famously known as the “baby- boomer” generation. The university was forced to purchase mobile homes to house this massive influx of the married students — my parents lived on the campus in one of those mobile homes.

To assist in your understanding the heart of this story, I offer the following anecdotal profile of my father, told to me several years ago by his friend and classmate, Coach Leonard McCullough:

One sunny fall afternoon Leonard paused as he walked past my dad’s mobile home. He smiled as he observed his friend, Oby, intently focused on his repeated efforts to cast a fishing lure into the black hula-hoop laying in the grass some distance in front of him. “Oby, have you sat for your yearbook picture yet?” Leonard asked. “No…too busy.” Oby calmly replied, his focus rigidly fixed as he cast the lure once again toward the elusive hula-hoop.

Hey, priorities are priorities!

Like every other freshman on the State College campus, my dad was enrolled in freshman English. Writing assignments were frequent, and for my “busy” father, highly annoying. So he did what many of the newly-married veterans very likely did — he asked my mom to write his English papers for him. She, being the dutiful bride, obliged by writing his assigned papers that entire semester — until…

Until it came time for the semester-ending term paper. My dad chose “Air Conditioning” as his topic, which was then a relatively new technology. He came home and announced the selected topic to his wife. Her reply: “Oby, I know absolutely nothing about air conditioning; I’m sorry but you are on your own for this paper.”

My dad rose to the challenge and poured his heart into the paper. Upon completion he proudly submitted the paper to his teacher and, with heightened anticipation, awaited his grade.

Soon came the fateful call. The English professor asked him to report to his office. My dad nervously tiptoed into the teacher’s office, with nary a clue as to why he had been summoned. “Oby, the term paper you submitted is excellent. In fact, it is so superior to the work you have previously submitted this semester that I don’t believe you wrote it. I’m giving you an ‘F’ on this paper.”

Busted.busted.busted.

For perhaps the first time in his life, my dad stood absolutely speechless before the professor. The truth only gets him into even deeper trouble, since the truth cruelly earns him an ‘F’ on every other paper he submitted during the semester. His lips sealed, silence ruled. He passed freshman English that semester by the skin of his teeth — and learned a very valuable life lesson in the process.

The most valuable outcome of this academic and moral disaster is this entertaining, humorous story which has blessed our family with some 70 years of joy, and laughter.