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This afternoon a shooter in military garb and helmet with what's being described as a machine gun broke into one of the buildings at my alma mater Case Western Reserve University. There are still people in the Peter B. Lewis Building, home of the Weatherhead School of Management, and presumably the shooter is in there too. I've heard that two people are dead and several more wounded.
I don't teach at CWRU anymore, but I spent eight years there while I was studying for my BA and MA. The English Department in Guilford House is across the street from the Lewis Building, which hadn't been built when I was at school.
Across the street from the Lewis Building is an old brick building, Clark House, where a lot of English and classics and philosophy classes were offered. One of the rooms has a lovely, old, hand-painted mural of Beowulf ringing the classroom. Just outside is a newer fountain of a rust-colored granite that is a sprawling series of large, flat steps. The dry steps were polished and glossy, very cool against the flesh in the spring and fall. Other steps were where the water flowed, and when it was warm, we'd take off our shoes and walk through the water, kicking it at each other.
Guilford House was painted white and pale yellow and had a wide porch. The English Department lounge looked out over the area that would become the Lewis Building, a place that was two frat houses when I was at school. I spent a lot of time in that lounge reading, chatting, grading, attending department meetings and new faculty interviews.
I would walk past the spot that would become the Lewis building several times a day coming to and from the dorms. I spent hours and hours on the fountain reading, studying, sometimes teaching.
Just north of the Lewis Building, across East Boulevard is the Cleveland Museum of Art, the Natural History Museum. Southwest of the building is Severance Hall where the symphony plays. The museums closed early today, and the symphony cancelled their evening concert.
This place was my home for eight years. My goddamn home. It was the place where I fell in love, hard in love for the first time in my life; it was the place where I fell out of love. It was the place where I caught mono, where I coped with the suicide of one of my best friends from high school. It was the place I saw my first porn film and my first foreign film. It was the place where I first taught a class, where I forged friendships that helped me realize strengths I never knew I had. It was a place where I learned to trust people enough to cry in front of them.
I've not been to University Circle for some time, I can't help but think that a madman with a machine gun is running wild in a place I called home killing people.
I don't teach at CWRU anymore, but I spent eight years there while I was studying for my BA and MA. The English Department in Guilford House is across the street from the Lewis Building, which hadn't been built when I was at school.
Across the street from the Lewis Building is an old brick building, Clark House, where a lot of English and classics and philosophy classes were offered. One of the rooms has a lovely, old, hand-painted mural of Beowulf ringing the classroom. Just outside is a newer fountain of a rust-colored granite that is a sprawling series of large, flat steps. The dry steps were polished and glossy, very cool against the flesh in the spring and fall. Other steps were where the water flowed, and when it was warm, we'd take off our shoes and walk through the water, kicking it at each other.
Guilford House was painted white and pale yellow and had a wide porch. The English Department lounge looked out over the area that would become the Lewis Building, a place that was two frat houses when I was at school. I spent a lot of time in that lounge reading, chatting, grading, attending department meetings and new faculty interviews.
I would walk past the spot that would become the Lewis building several times a day coming to and from the dorms. I spent hours and hours on the fountain reading, studying, sometimes teaching.
Just north of the Lewis Building, across East Boulevard is the Cleveland Museum of Art, the Natural History Museum. Southwest of the building is Severance Hall where the symphony plays. The museums closed early today, and the symphony cancelled their evening concert.
This place was my home for eight years. My goddamn home. It was the place where I fell in love, hard in love for the first time in my life; it was the place where I fell out of love. It was the place where I caught mono, where I coped with the suicide of one of my best friends from high school. It was the place I saw my first porn film and my first foreign film. It was the place where I first taught a class, where I forged friendships that helped me realize strengths I never knew I had. It was a place where I learned to trust people enough to cry in front of them.
I've not been to University Circle for some time, I can't help but think that a madman with a machine gun is running wild in a place I called home killing people.
