"Are You an Ecologist": The Next Generation

I escape on weekends to an upscale mall where I read, write, and edit. Soft chairs, marvelous scenery, and Starbucks latte...I'm a happy and productive boy. One of my favorite sites, however, was already taken by a geezer my age, the other was already occupied by a young lady and her books, notes, and writing pad. Easy choice. Sit across from the girl and share the coffee table where she rested her feet. I sat, she moved her feet, I asked her to put them back where they were, she complied, and I spread out my books, camera, and clipboard. We had our own table in the reference room but in a corner of the mall.

Sneak a peek: she did the same and we instantly traded smiles although I probably got more out of it than she did. I glimpsed clear olive skin, glistening black eyes and hair, and some garment of black satin that waved "hello" from her neckline, just above a plastic "Banana Republic" name tag. I saw her ancestors' striding along Mediterranean shores.

I arranged my work, a copy of Evolution and Human Behavior, the one with David Haig's most recent paper, and Peter Corning's Nature's Magic, so that the titles were evident if upside down from her side of the table. This tactic usually guarantees privacy and working room: few people want to sit near an evolutionist, especially one that is 60 and scowls.

I buried my one eye in Corning's stories and kept the other one on standby for her.

"Excuse me, are you an ecologist?"

It's possible to work as an ecologist 40 feet from Morton's Steakhouse and the Cheesecake Factory but the word "ecologist" and its carriers are not high probability events. Neither are people who know the word.

"No. I'm a psychologist in love with human evolution."

"Isn't that funny! Me, too. I'm majoring in psychology and biology. I especially like behavior genetics."

Bless St. David! I instantly wanted to give her my vita, gold card, and keys to my Z.

Her professor wanted her paper to have more psychology but less biology and the two of us agreed that he excluded anything worth saying. She left with my card and the URL for this forum.

A couple of my generation replaced her. Pallid, dour, and pudgy, like me except that I am pallid, dour, and skinny. He glanced at EHB, nudged her, and they, as I intended, left me to align Haig and Corning with what I wanted to believe.* Imo discovered how to wash potatoes and how to float mixtures of wheat and sand on water in order to separate the wheat. Her peers quickly adopted her customs. I understand that the old males never did.

* My son used the same strategy when he lived in a western Massachusetts hilltown where everyone wore Levis and cowboy hats even though very few of them got near a cow, even at a lunchroom. Those folks listen to C&W but they also crave roughage and granola.

Jimmy, a tyro Spanish student, had his favorite rocks and swimming holes on the local river, just as I do now. He, his mother, and stepfather went to the river one Saturday and spread out a lunch but the best rocks were already occupied. Jimmy chattered in Spanish to his mother and Dave about absolutely nothing. Elaine and Dave knew no Spanish but didn't have to. The other families quickly left.

JB

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