The building consisted of a bookstore, large dining room and the post office and going to Landrum was a highlight of the day.
At least it was until I got so sick of the food ... same damn thing day in and day out ... that I wished I had the money to go to a real restaurant but I didn't so ... same damn thing every day.
A clique of us gathered daily for lunch and dinner, making it bearable... mostly because we were funny as Hell ... though all these years later the only funny thing I still vividly recall is ... KERMIT LORD.
GOD HE WAS FUNNY ... in the most unfunny ways.
He was always dead serious, wore suits a lot, spoke in a slow deliberate manner, had never kissed a girl and loved the Lord Jesus Christ with everything in him.
He helped coach the Baptist Student Union Intramural Football team wearing a plaid shirt, kaki pants, tennis shoes, a baseball cap and carried a clip board.
When we showed up for games against the Pagan Frat boys they burst out laughing at Kermit ... which royally pissed off us Baptists ... so we kicked their ass ... winning the division one year ... thoroughly pissing off the Pagan Frat boys.
At dinner in Landrum Hall, Kermit would say, "Oh my Lord," in response to whatever we said.
"You can't say Oh My Lord," I told. "Your name is Lord. That's just not right."
"Oh My Lord," he replied covering his eyes with one hand.
When the rest of us graduated or ... in my case was thrown out of college ... we gathered for one last meal in Landrum.
We were happy and ready to go ... but afraid of how we were going to survive without each other.
"For Christ's sake," I slap the table. "This is hard! Who's going to take care of Kermit?"
Lowering his hands from his eyes, wearing a plaid shirt and Brylcreem in his hair, he spoke in his broken little voice saying, "I'll be okay Mike."
In front of my mates, fellow Baptists, girls I wanted to touch, and two hundred other students ... I burst into tears.
A few years ago, several of us made our way back to the college seeing each other for the first time in decades.
Standing there in the Baptist Student Union we looked at old pictures of us from back then ... and there's one of Kermit Lord ... whom I haven't thought of in years.
Mitch, Mark, Dedra, Ed Hinley and a Holy Host of others are standing with me ... laughing at how we looked back then ... and I cry again.
Later that night, all my friends went to church or something, while I hosted a glass of wine to a full moon in a pitch black sky.
"Hey Kermit Lord," I say out loud.
"Thank you. I hope you're doing good. I hope you kissed lots of girls. I hope you lost the plaid. But God I loved you. Here's to you buddy."
Today there are lots of things that aren't going the way I want them to.
It's frustrating ... I'm frustrated ... and I don't understand.
Sitting here full of frustration, Kermit Lord appears out of nowhere ... wearing a plaid shirt ... Bryllcreem in his hair ... looking like an idiot ... and in that broken voice of his ... says, "It's going to be alright Mike."
And somehow I know it is.
Thank you Kermit Lord.
I hope you're doing fine.
