His Name Was Lou, But I Called Him Orneriness!

I remember the first day I met Lou like it was yesterday. There he stood in front of my desk with his briefcase on his left arm, a large cup of Coke Coca from Hardee's in his left hand, and a cane in his right. Dressed in a new pair of creased jeans, just out of the plastic bag dress shirt, and a newsboy cap, it was his first day back to classes after a break. He looked down at me and said, "Y'all must be the new kid on the block. The new 'aminister' for this place." His name was Lou. I shook my head yes and introduced myself. That was the first and only time we ever called each other by our real names. He called me 'Meany' and I called him 'Orneriness.' The names seem to fit each of us well.  

I waited while he sat down and arranged all his precious cargo. We sat in silence for a while eyeing each other up and down like we were two boxers waiting for the bell to ring. In a loud and rough voice, he began to talk about his life and his goals for coming to reading classes. As I listened to his story, I wondered how this 70-year-old man had gotten through life. I felt the hurt, heartache, and desolation as he talked about his life. He had to leave school at a young age so he could help his father. And anyway, he did not like school because the kids made fun of his stuttering. Lou revered his father for his hard work and devotion to his family. Lou modeled himself to be like this father. His father never even completed third grade let alone high school. Lou did the same.

As I listened to Lou's story, I could sense his father's presence in the room with us. His father was a long-distance truck driver or as Lou reminded me 'an over the road truck driver (OTR driver).' Lou followed in his father's footsteps and did it for over 40 years until his wife's health went "south".  

I sat quietly knowing that Lou's story was important for him to tell me. He wanted people to understand his life. I found it hard to believe that someone who could not read, could drive all an eighteen-wheeler across the US. I was amazed. When I asked Lou about not being able to read signs. A smile came to his face as he said, "Well, my daddy told me when you hit the water, you've reached the end and need to turn around and go back. I had places where I knew I could stop and landmarks along the way. I made friends, along the trip, who helped me to get to my destination." Today, being a truck driver isn't' the same as back then. There weren't all kinds of certifications, written tests, and driving tests. Luckily for Lou, because of his experience, he was given oral tests for his driver's license and certification. I was still surprised and puzzled about his ability to maintain cargo and driving logs. Then he told me about his partner.

It was love at first sight. Most folks said she was just a bland country girl, but to him she was beautiful. With all her heart she loved him, a plain guy with no education. She led him to God and going to church. She made him the man he was. When they were first married, he would take her on the road with him. She maintained his driving logs. Then they began to raise a family.

They were married for many years. Then one day she became ill. Lou quit driving and stayed home to care for her. It was a long illness that eventually took her away. Before she died, she asked him to learn to read so he could understand things and not be "bamboozled" by others. He promised her and was determined to keep his promise. He became quiet as he looked out the window. After a few moments, he looked at me and said, "So I retired from truck driving to take reading classes just like I promised her."

Later that day, I spoke with his tutor and he told me the story about Lou. It seemed that most of the students and tutors who had never met Lou were "taken back" by his mannerisms. He seemed grumpy and sometimes downright cantankerous with his cane. I must admit he was somewhat frightening with that cane! Most of the time, he just ignored everyone and went straight to the classroom and made himself comfortable.

His classmates were childhood friends who had known him for years. They helped him with his reading. He felt comfortable with them and not afraid to make mistakes. Every class day, he would pass my door and yell, "Hey Meany." I would reply, "Good afternoon Orneriness."

Lou spent a lot of time in and out of the hospital. Even though he was sick, he never gave up. He took work home, practiced, and worked side by side with his friends to learn to read the Bible. His tutor and I met with Lou one day and asked him about his reason for reading the Bible. Did he want to get a better understanding of the Bible? Lou retorted, "I go to church on Sundays. I listen to that preacher and I want to make sure that he is preaching the truth. If not, I will let him know it." Well, that was not the reason I had expected.

Then one day, I heard the door of our business open. In came Lou straight to my office. He looked like he was about to explode. He pounded on my door with his cane and said, "In the classroom NOW!" Of course, my first thought was what has happened. Then he told the tutor that he wanted to see him in the classroom also. "NOW" was emphasized to both of us. We looked at each other and shrugged our shoulders and went to the classroom.  

Lou was busy arranging his materials. As he leaned his cane up in the corner, he turned around and said, "You sit there, and you sit there and be quiet!" I must admit that I was quite nervous as I sat down. Then Lou proceeded to open his briefcase and took out a book. Then without hesitation, he began to read. His tutor and I looked at each other our chins dropped and tears streaming down our cheeks. We listen to this gentleman read an entire short story on his own with confidence. We had no idea just how much he could read and understand. Without hesitation and never missing a word, he read the entire story with ease. When he got to the end, he read "The End" and put the book on the desk. There was silence as his tutor, and I tried to hold back our tears of excitement.

Lou opened his briefcase and took out a handkerchief. He began to cry as he said, "Today, I read my first book. I can read." All of us were crying tears of joy and excitement. Although he was not one for hugs, we ran over and hugged him as we all cried for his success. After that day, there was a change in Lou. He walked a lot straighter, smiled, and began talking with other students and tutors. Lou could read. He had accomplished his promise to his wife. Every day he came to class and worked with others in math and reading.

As time went on Lou became sicker and began spending more time in the hospital. But he always returned to class when he was able. One day we received a call from his son that Lou had died. I believe the building became quieter and sadder that day without Lou coming in with his newsboy cap with his briefcase, and cane. His son stated that when he went through his father's briefcase, he had found all his homework and the book. It was Lou's book.

 Lou left a legacy to all adult learners. He taught us not to judge someone by the way they look, or speak, or act. A person is like a book with pages full of adventure, love, sadness, pain, trials, and successes. You cannot tell a book by its cover. Lou's life was a book about his journey that most individuals would not understand. Many people don't get a second chance and when they do, they don't take it. Lou made a promise. He kept his promise. I, sometimes, wonder if he is in Heaven reading to all God's angels. I wouldn't put it past him. 

Adult learners are curious creatures filled with fear, hesitation, doubt, and afraid. After being told that they are smart enough or too late to begin classes, it a long journey into someone's office to ask for help. It takes courage to muster the energy and bravery to let others know that a person can't read, understand math, or never finished school. They are brave survivors who struggle to learn. When they do succeed, they become our heroes. Lou is our hero. He is immortalized in the history of our organization.  Everyone who begins hears about Lou. He is a star who shines brightly to show the light for other adult learners. Sometimes, I whisper, "Thanks Orneriness."