Four years of stories and gratefulness

You’ve all heard of the bike thief, right? That campus scourge who preyed on our precious beach cruisers and break-less bikes? Well, I found out how his hazardous reign was undone: my boy Gus went all “Cops” on him.

Gus has worked his way up to corporal in the Public Safety hierarchy, so he spends most of his days cruisin’ campus in a black jeep, keeping his eyes out for trouble. And a couple of weeks ago, he found that trouble while we were all away celebrating Spring Break.

While on his rounds, Gus spotted a bike rider that didn’t quite fit. When he asked him to slow down and talk to him for a minute, the guy bolted, tossing the bike over the fence behind McKay before hopping it and taking off.

Now for those of you who think that PSafe officers cruising around don’t have it in em’, this next bit is for you.

Gus hopped out of his patrol car in hot pursuit, radioed in and took no time getting over the back fence. As the suspect raced off in the opposite direction he had thrown the bike, Gus enlisted the help of the stolen bike as he pedaled down the assailant. In a scene straight out of “Cops,” our man Gus put an end to the streak of bike thefts.
 
And so, in this senior column, here’s my advice: Go meet Gus. He’s a hell of a guy. And he’s not the only one. LMU is full of people more than worth stopping by and meeting. Public Safety Corporal Gustavo Barron is one among many on this campus who have stories worth hearing.

There are great stories that get told here on campus, the kind that make our pamphlets and give us glam. In my four years, right here on campus, I heard of the Holocaust from the lips of Elie Wiesel in Gersten Pavilion, between history class and lunch. The next year, before playing a few games of ball at the gym, I heard Thich Nhat Hahn talk about the importance of compassion and meditation, revelations he discovered during a life of experiencing persecution and suppression. I even blew off studying for a chemistry exam one night to listen to Robert Kennedy, Jr. tell a story of increasing disregard for the Earth that sustains us. Rigoberta Menchu Tum told of the loss of her homeland. Jody Williams relayed the story of suffering still taking place in Darfur.

Dig through the classroom to hear the stories of the information disseminators who conduct your classes. If somebody is teaching, I’m guessing there’s something in her life that’s led her there, some story of discovery that’s probably worth hearing.

But the best stories I’ve heard, hands down, have been from staff members. Staff members on this campus are the great overlooked, the great unappreciated founts of joy and valuable work on this campus. They make the campus what it is, and are often overlooked for congratulations and found in blame. The recent tuition remission controversy that was so quickly swept under the rug was a shameful swipe at staff members specifically, and should’ve been more honest in its aims.

Listening to stories means looking past the function somebody is supposed to serve or the service they provide and seeing someone worth engaging and hearing out. If you want great stories that make you smile at life and realize just how wonderful a place this is, talk to anyone in the CSA crew, Tina at the C-lion, Julio, Jeff or anybody working in U-Hall, anyone in the UR offices, Bea over in Honors, the registrar’s office, Bob in the mailroom, Tom over here at the Loyolan, Nora up in the AVP offices, just to name a few stories I had the pleasure of hearing last week.

And if you’re finding yourself re-hashing the same old stories in the cozy confines of your dorm room, get the hell outta there. Those places are hotbeds of disease, boredom and inertia. You’ll find out more about your friends by engaging in new situations. 
   
Go find other stories, too. Los Angeles is full of stories of suffering and loss, stories we’re not used to hearing but challenge us to engage the world without delusion. The world’s pretty wide, too. 

LMU is a great place to be, and if you don’t notice it, you’re not paying enough attention. It’s not just the coziness of the bubble, but the wealth of stories collected here matched with the tremendous cura personalis that makes this campus the incredible place it is. For allowing me to hear those stories and so many people around here taking part in my own, I’m the luckiest guy I know. Thanks to all the scurvy ones, left and right, and that’s the end of this ham-fisted senioritis session. 

This is the opinion of John Weems, a senior philosophy major from Katy, TX. Please send comments to jweems@theloyolan.com.