LAW SCHOOL:  It’s for you . . . .

By late summer 1990, Julie and I had been married six weeks and we packed up to move to Fayetteville so I could start law school (don’t do that).

At first things were chaotic and it was an adjustment, but soon we made friends and developed somewhat of a routine, although much of it was anything but routine.

One of our routines was Thursday night dinner.  It was still the heyday of network TV and Thursday night had the best line up: “The Simpsons” on Fox, followed by the NBC line-up, anchored by “Cheers.”  Several of my classmates would come over to our cramped apartment and either Julie would cook or we’d order pizza.  Either way we drank a lot of beer.

The usual crowd was a bunch of characters and most evenings the funniest thing that happened wasn’t on TV.

One night we were well into the evening when we got a phone call.  We had a basic phone, no caller ID or voice mail, that sat in the corner of the room beside the couch.

That night Trent was closest to the phone, already well primed and determined to answer.  Those of you that know Trent will understand what happened next.

He picked up the phone and launched in to an angry tirade: “What?  Who are you? What do you want? I’m trying to have sex with my wife and you’ve interrupted us!  What do you have to say for yourself?”

Trent was quite proud of himself, not only because he could see that Julie was mortified, but also because despite his impairment he had actually enunciated every word of his tirade.  As he listened to the caller’s response the look on his face change from smug satisfaction to sheer joy as he doubled over, laughing uncontrollably gasping for air.

After a moment he handed the phone to Julie, and said:

“It’s for you, it’s your minister, he wants to talk to you.”

And in fact it was our minister.  One of the jobs Julie worked to support us was a part time choir director at Trinity UMC.  Our minister had called to talk about the upcoming Sunday service.

The minister was understandably shocked, but also a little confused because he realized that I hadn’t answered the phone.  Fortunately, being a Methodist he was a good sport, and after Julie apologized profusely and explained this was the “normal” Thursday night crowd, he decided to come over and see what was going on himself.  Although I really think it was because he realized he could drink a couple of beers without consequence because after what had happened none of us were likely to say anything about it.

And while there were many more Thursday nights and even more laughs, none were quite as memorable; perhaps because Trent was never allowed to sit beside the phone again.