Cole Potter drags out every minute he can of the State Police’s visit on campus. You can see that he wants to rub elbows with the big kids on the block. His puppy-dog enthusiasm embarrasses me. I am unusually silent.
The deep hole I wanted to dig in order to respectfully bury the swan will not be dug; the police remove the swan’s body in a white van bearing the seal of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. Gomez Schwartz is finally able to head home at least three hours after his shift ended. I make a mental note to ask Cole if Gomez will be paid for his time. When you make an hourly wage, such things become very important.
Though it is Saturday, I decide to purge the space my father once used for his office in preparation for it becoming mine. Only one person held the job after him so I am not surprised to find his name on many of the memos that I am tossing. A few odd files surface; they are not labeled by Building Name or Project Name. They each are identified by a string of numbers. I was reluctant to admit it, but it appeared to be a code. The papers inside are not helpful. The photographs my father saved left more questions than they answered. The first file set are black and white images of the Head’s house. Bartlett Dormitory is featured on the second set. The final group of photos in the first file are a cluster of various gravestones out at the cemetery. I wonder if more is going on than I realize. It is quite possible that there are other forces at wok than simple vandalism. I place a stack of about five folders on the upper right hand corner of my desk after highlighting the labels on each one. I suspect there will prove to be some valuable information in at least one of these files. I bag up all the paper for recycling. I toss an assortment of tchotchkes such as a mug, a paperweight, a stone with a bird painted on it, a four-inch, copper paperclip and a massive collection of buttons with slogans (WWJD?) in a box I found in the garage. There is now surface area exposed on the filing cabinet. When I throw out the dead plant, the broken creamer, the coffee pot that no longer works and a few other odds and items, I have a curious amount of empty space on the small table under the clock. I am thinking a Keurig coffee maker will fit nicely -- out in the garage, not in my office. I need to get a printer and update the computer. I don’ t think I will meet resistance moving the place into the 21st century -- I just think no one has thought to do so until now. The next year is going to be spent simply getting all the systems up to speed so that the construction and changes at Whately Prep don’t swamp the boat. I like losing myself in work. I grab a pad of yellow lined paper. Using my favorite -- a flair pen -- I write the words TO DO at the top. With two short strokes, I underline the words and set to work imagining what comes next.