Just think. A tiny little virus has changed all of our lives in a matter of days. Isn’t this social distancing something? To be perfectly honest I’m a little concerned about it and the effects it may have on this generation of young people.

I know a lot about social distancing. I grew up on the edge of a cotton field in rural Mississippi. Aside from going into town for groceries, the feed mill, school and church, I rarely went anywhere. I went on a vacation with my cousin once, and I went on a few choir tours with our church, but that was about it.

To put it mildly I was greener than a gourd in spring.

Imagine, if you can, how my world changed the day my folks dropped me off on the sidewalk in front of the dorm at The University of Southern Mississippi. I had never seen the place before. I was 165 miles from home for the first time in my life. Alone. The only way home was to hitchhike.

You may wonder why and how I ended up at that particular school. I had always heard that you should go to school and study what you were good at. I really wasn’t good at much. I was a terrible student, academy speaking. But there was one thing I enjoyed. I loved to draw. So without the benefit of counseling I had the hair-brained notion I would major in commercial art. Southern was the only college in the state that offered that degree, so I chose to go there sight unseen.

Country had come to town.

Eventually I found my way around the campus and settled into my room at the dorm. I had no clue that my dorm’s name, Elam Arms, spelled backwards was male arms. Go figure. But there were others that were well aware of that little fact.

There I was, fresh off the farm, majoring in art and staying in a place called male arms.

It gets worse.

There were some guys on my floor that were a little different. But then, everyone was different to me. They loved to turn their stereo up loud, stay up all hours and party. I would speak to them in passing. They were nice enough people. Sometimes I was invited to their room for a game of Spades or Hearts.

Weekends were a lonely time for me. Most of the kids vacated the campus. Some went home. Others went to the coast about ninety miles away. Me? I worked in the library or hung around the dorm.

Then one weekend later in the year one of the guys down the hall asked me if I wanted to go to New Orleans with he and his buddies. I told him I’d love to but I couldn’t. When he asked why I told him that I just didn’t have that kind of money.

He laughed and said not to worry about it. (I must interject at this point that I will not be using their actual names for obvious reasons.)

He informed me that Frankie just received a new credit card in the mail and he was going to charge everything on it. Problem solved. I agreed to go.

I threw a few things into a small duffel bag and met them out in the parking lot. Four guys and a girl packed into a Volkswagen bug. One of the guys invited his girlfriend. Hmmmmm.

Frankie was a skinny little fellow with large, round glasses and a mop of brown hair. Jackie was taller. He wore a mop, too. Stephen was stocky. It appeared he had put peroxide on his hair. It had orange, ugly streaks mingled in with cocker spaniel gold. His girlfriend was Bettye Lou. Nice. Quiet. A little on the soft side. She was just thrilled to be anywhere. And me; Another thin guy wearing a belt buckle as big as a hubcap. That was cool in those days.

We arrived in the French Quarter about sundown. Frankie had everything planned out. We checked into the Royal Orleans just off Bourbon Street. I had never seen such a place. Huge doors that must have been ten feet tall greeted us. Marble floors and columns. Chandeliers dripping with glass. I was in awe. He went to the desk and asked for a suite facing an inner courtyard. As we entered our suite I couldn’t believe my eyes. French doors opened onto a balcony overlooking a tropical paradise. The carpet on the floor seemed as thick as my mattress back at the dorm. There was a kitchenette. A huge bed, the likes I had never seen, at the rear of the suite. Another near the front.

We threw our gear on the floor and followed Frankie down to the hotel’s restaurant. He sat at the head of the table and ordered for us all. He had the magic card.

It was a feast of delectables I had never tasted. Pressed duck. Sautéed mushrooms. Things I couldn’t pronounce. And champagne. I had never had champagne before. I wasn’t impressed. I missed my mother’s cooking and sweet tea. But I reveled in the experience.

Afterwards we hit Bourbon Street. Hawkers called out to us to enter their establishments. Some taunted us with cheap drinks. Others had the prettiest girls. My eyes were opened. We were led into one place after another by the pied piper holding the golden card. Everything was FREE! Not being used to such, I merely sipped while the others threw them back. I’ve always been more of a people watcher than a party person. In the wee hours of the night we followed the leader into a dimly lit establishment. I could hardly see as I made my way through a throng of dancing people. I took a seat and someone slid me a drink they’d ordered on my behalf. My eyes began to adjust to the dark room. What was this I was seeing? Girls were dancing with girls. Guys dancing with guys? I felt something amiss. When in doubt, I go with my gut. I rose and headed for the door. On my journey some fellow asked me if I would like to dance. “With who?” I asked.

“Me!” Came the reply.

I kept walking. Once outside the others caught up with me. “Are you alright? What’s wrong?”

I just shook my head. “I’m tired. I think I’ll head back to the hotel,” was what I told them. Frankie was disappointed. He hadn’t maxed out his card yet. The others mumbled something, too. But they followed me back to the Royal Orleans.

Back in the room I did a little math in my head. Things didn’t add up. One girl. Four guys. Two beds. Something was off. Then Stephen and Bettye Lou put dibs on the half acre bed at the back of the suite. Hmmmm. I started to open my mouth and mention, “Y’all can’t do that. Y’all aren’t husband and wife.” But something deep inside me said, “Shut up.”

I looked at the other large bed. Again I did a little cyphering in my head. I didn’t care how big that bed was. I wasn’t getting into it with two other guys. They could have it.

I fumbled through the dresser and found an extra blanket and pillow.

I never have been able to sleep well if there is light in the room. That night there was a little bit of light shining through from the courtyard outside our room. I looked around and observed the large closet with sliding mirrored doors on the opposite wall. Eureka! A private bedroom. I entered a shoved the doors shut behind me as I laid down on the mattress thick carpet. Soon I was in slumberland.

Shortly after I had drifted off I was awaken by the sound of the door at the end of the closet rattling open. There was enough light filtering in from the courtyard that I could tell it was Frankie. My first thought was that the guy with the golden card had had a little too much to drink that night. I mumble something about this room was occupied. Still, he continued crawling towards me from the bottom of the closet.

Suddenly I was wide awake. Very wide awake. His hand had landed on a very private part of my body. I had entered the closet a naive young man, but I bolted out of there with a knowledge that was God-sent. I was suddenly filled with the spirit as I leapt into my clothes, grabbed my duffel bag, and fled to the lobby. I doubt if the rapture could have yanked me out of that room any quicker.

When daylight came I made my way to Canal Street and onto the interstate that led back to Hattiesburg. I thumbed it back to campus a little wiser. Those fellas never mentioned that weekend to me. In the weeks that passed I learned that Stephen had dumped Bettye Lou. He preferred the company of Frankie, the kid with the golden card. Evidently, the two became big fans of Barbra Streisand. From that day forth it was her music that blared from their dorm room night and day. When I heard her singing The Way We Were, I thought, “Nope. Not me.”

I stayed at The University of Southern Mississippi two years before transferring to Mississippi State University and changing my major to communications. Like a lot of kids that were paying their own way through college my life’s situation changed. I couldn’t afford to stay in school and work, too. I left at the end of 1973 to work full time. I tell people that I finished at Mississippi State. That much is true. However, I was not able to get a degree.

On the other hand, I did get an education.

Back to this isolation situation I was mentioning earlier. Isolating yourself and your family during the current circumstances is a good thing. But don’t over shelter them to the point that they are not ready for the world that awaits them out there. They could have shocking revelation once this moment in history passes.

May the peace that passes all understanding be with you now and forever more. Especially as we endure these strange days. Remember that it’s the smallest things that can change your life.

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Rick Algood
March 26, 2020