His vision

Wow, what a beautiful day. The air was clear, the sun was bright. Students frolicked.

Not sure what that was about.

After my second class, I grabbed my camera and headed for the library. That's a pretty good looking building, inside and out.

Here's a shot out one of the library's windows:

Nice, eh? If I were a student, I'd be studying right there, much of the time.

YESTERDAY, denizens of the IVC community, including yours truly, came to school only to discover that our beloved Clock Tower had been demolished. The orangey pieces that made up the face were stacked on the ground next to a planter. There were some other parts, too, but I couldn't make 'em out.

Oddly, the contractor had left the iron base of the Tower standing: it jutted skyward. It was hideous. (See photos.) The yellow security tape didn't help.


A classified employee later told me that IVC Prez, Glenn Roquemore, was really pissed when he discovered that the contractor hadn't finished the job by Monday. I guess Glenn was thinking that, if the Clock Tower just disappeared without a trace, nobody would notice it missing. Good plan.

Glenn thinks like that. Such thinking is his vision, I believe.

Dissent would have noticed. Dissent knows that this college has few distinctive motifs. Yellow security tape is one of 'em. They wrap everything in it. Even trees.

Another motif is hearing somebody say, "I'll meet you at the Clock Tower." Or: "I'll meet you at the goddam Clock Tower."


That's a very IVC thing to say.

Last Monday night, the Board asked Glenn about IVC's temp buiildings snafu--some temporary classrooms were not ready for the 1st week of classes, leaving faculty and administrators scrambling for replacement rooms.

But Glenn had a plan. Part of it was the posting of signs at the closed temps. They directed students "to meet your instructor at the Clock Tower," IVC's one and only landmark.

The trustees seemed a little peevish about this snafu, which, no doubt, they learned about in Dissent. They looked at Glenn sans their usual warmth. (Hee hee.) Glenn winced a little. He explained that it was the contractor's fault. The darned guy went off on vacation!

That sounded an awful lot like "my dog ate it."

I'm a little surprised, but people are saddened by the loss of that damned Clock Tower. Yesterday, I saw some of 'em standing around the Clock Tower's parts, in silence. Today, though, they mostly bitched and moaned.

Getting back to yesterday: after a few hours, I noticed that, while I was in class, most of the Clock Tower parts had been hauled off. But not the ugly REMNANT. With the flapping yellow tape. (As of this afternoon, it was still there.)

I went back to my office.

By 4:30 or so, Rebel Girl and I were done for the day, and so we headed toward the parking lot. Without a word, we stopped by the Clock Tower remnant. We stood there. Then Reb said, "What's this?" and she reached down. She picked up two long nondescript metal parts. They were grey or brown and covered with dust.

Eureka! They were the clock's hands! She held them high in triumph!

Only later did I learn that Reb had come to school that day prepared to post some fliers regarding some important student events. She had worked hard on the fliers. They directed students to meet on campus at a particular time and place.

Students were told to "meet at the Clock Tower." Where else?

And so she drove to school with her fliers, and she was feeling good. But when she arrived and then walked, as usual, through the A-quad to her office, fliers in hand, she came upon the empty sky where a big orange clock used to be.

Right about then, Glenn was in his office, looking out his window. (Could be.)

He glanced briefly toward the Clock Tower. He did a double-take.

"Goddammit!"

Another Roquemoreian vision undone.