Chapter 5: Intermission

After a lot of dithering and fussing, I finally decided to ignore the US colleges and attend Ottawa University. I would be a Gee Gee, not to mention a worthless frosh dork with no knowledge and no friends. That wasn't really true. Several of my classmates chose O.U. and I could at least say I had some familiar faces, even if they weren't real friends. I bought a car, a 1989 Volkswagen Golf two-door. It was only afterwards that I learned of the various problems this model had but fortunately, aside from a lousy heater and a reluctance to start in cold weather, it served me fairly well for my college days.

I was living at home and that fact alone I think kept me sane. I was writing to Ginny regularly and received her replies a little less often. I would sit in my bedroom in front of the computer, having finished my studies, trying to think of something new or interesting to tell her. College was a very different environment from high school and I was curious if Ginny was feeling the same way I was. Ottawa was a big institution and I was an almost invisible ant in their affairs. It was quite an adjustment from my previous school experience and it took some getting used to.

Ginny wrote that she was initially very homesick and having trouble adapting to her new life. Not only was she away from home but she was away from her family and me, the people who kept her balanced and comfortable. However as time passed that fall I began to see a change. She was coping and beginning to enjoy the experience. I don't know if I was happy or sad when I realized that.

As fall became winter, we corresponded less. By late November I knew she wouldn't be home for Christmas break. She had a chance to work on a farm with a veterinarian in the area and she couldn't pass it up. I talked to her parents and they were very upset but accepted that it was her decision. Since both of us were only children it would really change their Christmas -- and not for the better.

When Mr. & Mrs. Fontaine invited me for Christmas Eve I agreed almost right away. As usual, my parents would be out and about in the neighbourhood, visiting friends and enjoying the holiday spirit. The Fontaines and I were in quite a different mood. We missed Ginny terribly and I guess we took solace in our mutual disappointment. All the same, I enjoyed my evening with them and I think they felt the same way. It wasn't what any of us wanted but it was better than being alone.

Early in the New Year I received a letter from Ginny thanking me for spending Christmas Eve with her parents. Apparently, her mother was quite effusive in her praise for what I had done for them and easing their feelings of loneliness. Ginny went on to say how much that meant to her too. She reminded me that she thought I was very thoughtful of others and that it was something that drew her to me in the first place. It was a small consolation but I held on to it.

My first year in college was an eye-opener. I had to make some decisions about my future and I discovered that it wasn't all as cut-and-dried as I expected. I was having second thoughts about journalism. Not because I wasn't interested but because I was finding so many more other areas of interest. I wouldn't really have to begin my journalism courses until second year so I had some time to think about my future. It was then that I ran into Steve Walters, a teaching assistant in the English department.

It took me a couple of months to adapt to college life and understand what was expected of me. That is to say ... nothing. Whether I passed or failed appeared to be of no consequence to anyone other than me and my parents. I was on my own and it was something I hadn't expected. I should have, I suppose, but I didn't. When I ran into some difficulty with a portion of the English course I was mandated to take I sought out the teaching assistant for some help.

Steve Walters was a twenty-three year old graduate student working on his masters in English literature. He was an ordinary looking guy, about six foot, dark hair, terrible clothes and a kind of messiness about him that I didn't relate to. However, he was friendly, bright, experienced and willing to spend some time with me. It was at that point that we began to form a friendship that would last quite some time ... long after I graduated.

"What brought you to Ottawa?" he asked as we sat down together for the first time. His tiny office was little more than a broom closet but he seemed at home in it.

"Journalism. I've been wanting to be a writer for some time," I admitted.

"What kind of journalism?"

I shrugged. "Newspaper, magazine, you know ... the usual."

He smiled. "It's a lot more complex than that. Journalists are writing for TV and radio news, travel magazines, corporations, politicians, you name it. It's a big field with plenty of offshoots. Do you have any preference?"

"I haven't really thought about it too much," I admitted, "but my experience is with a local newspaper. I guess I'd like to be involved in public affairs."

"Public affairs usually involves political affairs. Have you given any thought to how you will know when you're being led down the garden path or when you're getting the straight skinny?"

"I guess it would be a matter of experience."

"True, but research is always a good tool. What are you planning for your course load next year?" he asked.

"I haven't decided. I mean, besides the first year journalism course, I haven't given it much thought."