Performer: The Psychedelic Furs
Songwriters: Richard Butler, John Ashton, Tim Butler, Vince Ely
Original Release: single
Year: 1982
Definitive Version: None
This was a huge song from my
freshman year at Wabash, and it was one, like Slit Skirts, that I didn’t really
care for at the time but now because it harkens to a great time, I do like it.
I definitely see the basement pool/TV room at Wolcott Hall. But that isn’t what
I think about when I hear this song.
In January 2003, I had a
secret that I was keeping from everyone at The Dispatch—I was quitting at the
end of the month to move to Cleveland to start research work on my book idea.
Well, it was more that I was turning in my notice at the end of the month,
effective at the end of February.
Of course, I’d known that I
was leaving since at least the middle of the last year, but I wanted to do two
things before I left: I wanted to stay the rest of the year to save up as much
money as I could before I had to live off the savings with no income, and I
wanted to repair my work image somewhat, so they’d miss me when I was gone.
I accomplished the first
part of the goal rather easily, because I had a little help. In 2002, Debbie
had heard that Dot in Atlanta died, which of course was sad for me considering
how well we had gotten along. Dot and her husband had been longtime Coca-Cola
investors, so she was well off, and she left a huge chunk of money to Debbie. I
don’t know how much she left her; it was none of my business.
Regardless, Debbie took me
out to dinner around Christmas and said how she wanted to help me leave the
Dispatch to go do what I wanted to do. So she said that because she knew how
much Dot loved me, she wanted me to have a little taste from Dot’s estate. She
gave me a check for $8,000. I was floored and thanked her effusively. Although
it wouldn’t speed up the process, it would definitely help.
But later my cynical mind
went to work. The amount was notable to me for two reasons. First, that Debbie
could so seemingly capriciously jot off a check for 8 G’s when she had been
telling me that paying the bills was a bit of a struggle for her told me that
Dot’s bequest was more than generous.
Second, and more important,
that was exactly the value of her diamond engagement ring. When we broke up,
Debbie had offered to give me back the ring, but I didn’t want it. I gave it to
her willingly as a gift, and it wasn’t as though I was going to do anything
with the ring if I took it back anyway. I’m sure, even as I write this, that
that more than any other reason was why Debbie gave me what she did. Perhaps,
now that I think about it, Dot’s death actually had nothing to do with it at
all. It just provided Debbie with cover for doing something she felt she had to
do to clear her conscience or whatever.
Anyway, that left the second
part of my goal—rehabilitate my work image. I had made a big effort throughout
2002 to do better, not only in my attitude but also from a technical
standpoint. Of course, the fact that I could see a clear goal that was coming
soon didn’t hurt. It’s always easier to put your nose to the grindstone when you
know it’s just a temporary arrangement.
By January 2003, I had more
than $44,000 in the bank. I figured my expenses carefully and determined that
that would last me at least two years, so I was financially ready. And work was
going along swimmingly. In fact, I had even been nominated for an internal
award, so it was time to make my exit.
The only thing left to take
care of was telling my circle of friends. I wanted them to hear it from me
directly and not second- or third-hand. I figured that I would tell them the
last weekend of January and then give two weeks’ notice at the end of the next
week. The plan was ready to be put into play.
Now I could focus all of my
attention on the house party that friends of mine were holding the week before
I dropped my bombshell …
(To be continued)
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