College in Grand Island and Hastings

I had just turned nineteen, and on the day of my discharge—August 15, 1952—the government passed a bill allowing the Korean veteran with service time to be eligible for an education under government subsistence. The following September I entered a college for business administration at Grand Island, Nebraska. But here again, conditions and circumstances governed my course of action. I wasn't genuinely interested in business or the administration of it. And, the only reason I went back to Grand Island was because my family was there. The truth is that I never did like Grand Island, which is where I went to high school after my parents moved from the farm in 1946. And, why didn't I then, at least pursue a career in music for which I had definite talent? I hate to say this, but I simply didn't know any better. (I know now, nonetheless, that all during that period my subconscious was, in fact, hard at work trying to decode and piece together the complexity of the outer world and my place in it.) My main obstacles were those of environment and heritage. It was not within the pattern of my heritage to obtain a higher education. No one in my immediate family, or relatives, had acquired a higher education, which gave rise to countless false ideas about those who did. All my people had been farmers or tradesmen, and the interplay between desire, embarrassment, and inadequacies were forever present concerning this subject. The paradox was yet too difficult for my young mind to understand, and I had not yet learned to overcome the opinions of others. On the positive side, heritage had given me the ideal conditions by which to grow strong within myself—on the other side, heritage had no tools to aid my education beyond that which it had acquired. (In this respect, we individuals are all pioneers of a new world.) I had fulfilled the basic desires of my parents, and any other desire was beyond their vision.

Interestingly though, going to the Business College wasn't a total waste. I did learn a lot of practical things during my brief attendance. For example, I learned how to read a basic balance sheet, how to type, how to run most office machines of that day, how to write a good business letter, and the general ins and outs of banking, as well as a fairly good overview of what to expect in pursuing a career in the business world. (I must admit, as much as I dislike business, that over the years a great deal of what I learned there did actually come in handy—which goes to show that nothing is lost and all goes into the master computer, so to speak.)

Three months later, I finally found the courage to enter Hastings College—a small liberal arts college well known for its music department—as a full-time student, which had been my original desire since high school.

I can't say that I learned a great deal in college. Not that I didn't find some of it enjoyable or intellectually stimulating, I was too intent. I was always looking for something a lot deeper than what was being presented, but I didn't know what it was any more than anyone else. I didn't know the question let alone the answer. About the best reason I can give at the moment for my lack of adaptability to college life, at first, was my primitive nature. I was simply not a civilized man. That's funny, but it is the truth. I was like a composer who had lost his voice, but when I say, "I was not a civilized man," I do not wish to imply that I was a law breaker, a loner, or even noticeably different from anyone else. The differences lie at a deeper level. I knew that if push came to shove that I would always trust and follow my own conscience. There was something about me that appeared to be unable to surrender. I was unable, at least at the time, to be a team player. I never went to a football game, and here in Nebraska that was, and is, a Cardinal Sin. The worst grade I received in college came from a professor who asked the class to take a vote on whether or not we should have class on the day of the Big Game, and if no one objected we would make up the class at another time. You guessed it. I objected, thus forcing the professor to teach on the day of the Big Game. Now, that wasn't very smart of me. Today, I can only shake my head and say, "What in the world was I thinking of?" That is not the way to win friends and influence people. Maybe I deserved a low grade because the class was on public speaking, and for sure, you cannot influence people by directly insulting them. You can tell them the truth if they don't want to hear: you can stand for the truth; you can make them mad, and you can do almost anything, but you cannot insult what they enjoy unless you have a good reason. I definitely had a lot to learn.

But interestingly, none of my classmates belittled me for my personal protest against football. The only one who appeared distraught was the professor because he was forced to teach that day, whereas everyone else was given the choice to either stay or leave. As I recall, about one-half of the class stayed, which to me is quite revealing. On the one side, it is obvious that I had a lot to learn about diplomacy, but on the other side the incident helped me to develop the strength to stand alone and not surrender my convictions and beliefs under pressure. So, in the short run, my ego and pride may have suffered for receiving a low grade, but in the long run I learned a more valuable lesson not only in speech but in self confidence. (As I eventually found out—truthfulness plus confidence equals responsibility, and responsibility equals success in the highest order.)

Still, there was a lot of unhappiness in the 1950's: a different form of unhappiness than today, but nevertheless unhappiness. It was a period of great change, and change is always disruptive to our mental and emotional states. In my mind, this is why the evolutionary process within nature is accomplished through almost undetectably small steps or stages so as to cause the least possible disturbance. (Obviously a lesson scientists have either not accepted or learned as of now: because, they are still frantically running around trying to change everything or anything that wanders into their path.) After the War, people were psychologically disturbed about a lot of things. There was a lot of drinking and anger. People were searching for anything that would give them peace. I wasn't the only one by far. I can still remember my own personal frustrations at the time. I was nineteen approaching twenty and biologically I needed sex. Back then, however, I didn't communicate with myself quite so bluntly or directly as now. I was still afraid to look myself straight in the eye and call a horse a horse. I don't ever remember telling myself back then, "James you need sex or you are going to lose your mind; you better do something about it." It didn't happen that way. What actually happened: I gradually became very lonely and, then, the pangs of loneliness began to manifest into a desire to have more than a casual relationship with the opposite sex.

You have to understand that cohabitation between the opposite sex was not socially acceptable in the early 1950's, before marriage. It wasn't like today: sex without commitment or responsibility was prohibited. Not that it didn't happen, but for the most part, if a couple conceived a child—they were responsible for their actions. It would be hard to determine just how many people were forced into marriage before they were mentally ready, back then: but we do know it must have been considerable. I personally know of more than I am willing to mention.

Nevertheless, life is certainly an interesting drama, and sometimes I wonder about the whole show. But then, as I look back, I realize that nothing ever happened to me in a normal way. My childhood wasn't normal either. I was the only one in my class for the first eight years, and I don't ever recall having a friend come over to play during those early years—hardly an environment conducive to my social development: except, being alone all those years may have been the very thing that spawned my love of companionship; my interest in people, and why I have always cherished my friends. But it did leave its mark. I was terribly shy around girls by the time I reached high school. I didn't know how to act when I was alone with a girl my own age without the support of a group. Consequently, it wasn't until I was discharged from the military that I began to have a one on one relationship with the opposite sex.

The point is: all this contributed to my mental equation, and if desire is prayer, it certainly worked, for in a short time I met another person basically like myself. The girl had a similar background, and although she had not served in the military, for the two years corresponding my time in the service, she had been enrolled in an all-girl school, training to be a nun.

We had a great deal in common, but like most young people, we also had a great deal not so common. We were both bred and raised in the heart of rural America, and we both had a serious nature. Equally, we were both extremely strong willed and work was in our blood. Strange, but now, I can no longer remember what we talked about. Unlike me, she was not enrolled in college, and now that I think about it, it makes me wonder if we ever did have much in common apart from loneliness and our basic shared physical and emotional needs. My favorite sister-in-law, who I haven't talked about yet, didn't approve of our relationship, even though she never told me until years later, and after I had been married and separated. For some reason my sister-in-law had a high opinion of me, and she didn't think the girl would be able to keep pace with my intellectual pursuits. In other words, she didn't think the girl was good enough for me, which is quite interesting, and odd, in view of the facts; since she, herself, was not only highly educated, but had also been a successful singer, teacher, and pianist prior to marrying my oldest brother who was a farmer with only an eighth grade education.

So it was during my first year at Hastings College, and after a brief courtship of four months, we became man and wife. I really believe that my grades and studies began to improve after I got married. Every one appeared to notice how much happier I looked. And for some strange reason some of the wrinkles on my face began to disappear. Of course, it's been so long ago that I may be slightly confused about some of my romantic facts: they may simply be the product of an old man's over-active imagination.

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