Eloi, Eloi
“Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?”
This is from Mark 15:34:
“And at the ninth hour, Jesus cried with a loud voice, saying, Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani? Which is, being interpreted, My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” (KJV)
I first encountered this, in all places, Science Fiction Literature class my sophomore year in college. This single class had the most significant impact on me, my life, and my work than all classes I took.
This says a lot considering I spent almost 22 years in college through undergraduate, graduate, and post-doctorate studies.
PAUSE: Before you conclude that all I did was go to school, except for the four years of undergrad, I worked full time and went to college at night and on the weekends. That journey is another story.
To continue…
Several of my friends took this class, enjoyed it, and shared that it was an “easy” class, a fun class — read your favorite Science Fiction books and watch Godzilla movies — and, of course, an easy “A.”
I enrolled… but this did not become the class my friends had taken. I was about to enter English Literature Purgatory.
Previously, the course was taught by Carol P., an English Instructor, not a professor.
She was there in the initial class and introduced Dr. Fred Erisman, a high-level English professor who was going to observe.
His “observe” lasted about a week. He took over the class and raised the bar to the level of a graduate course in literature. Poor Carol P. became more a spectator than an instructor.
He had us analyze the literature — rip it apart like Robin Williams in the Dead Poets Society.
In Science Fiction, he placed works into categories like “Utopian,” “Dystopian,” and a category he called “Eutopian.” There were books on the “oppressive societies,” “menacing aliens,” “future social fiction,” and a few more I can’t recall.
After the first test, the class was in rebellion. “Where are the Godzilla movies?” we thought.
We confronted him in class. He let several people speak their piece and replied, “If you can’t stand the heat…” Several people dropped the course. I was already at the minimum course load to keep my scholarship, so I couldn’t drop. I chugged on, with a 68 on the first test.
Eloi, Eloi…
I learned what it meant from H. G. Wells’ The Time Machine. The Eloi were the peaceful people who lived on the surface and used as cattle for the underground dwelling Morlocks. Also, Eloi is a Spanish boy’s name that means “the chosen.” You can pull a lot of symbolism from that one term in context.
We read Kurt Vonnegut’s first novel, Player Piano, set in an oppressive society. After the course, I became a Vonnegut addict — read everything he had written up to that time (Welcome to the Monkey House, Sirens of Titan, Cat’s Cradle, etc.) and just about anything he wrote the next 30 years: Slapstick (they butchered the book in the movie with Jerry Lewis and Madeline Kahn), Deadeye Dick, Jailbird, etc. I even watched his movies: Slaughterhouse Five, Happy Birthday Wanda June, Breakfast of Champions, among others, and could actually explain and debate content and how movies differed from the book. I finished Armageddon in Retrospect as a bathroom book last year and found it interesting enough to stay past my time. So it goes…
Out of the Silent Planet by C. S. Lewis is where I was introduced to the “pfifltriggi,” a species on the planet Malacandra (aka — Mars). Dr. Erisman pronounced it perfectly! Lewis became a staple of Christian Science Fiction and part of a trilogy: Perelandra (takes place on Venus) and That Hideous Strength (back on Earth). I read them all and continued to The Screwtape Letters. I never ventured into the Narnia series.
A Clockwork Orange was most intriguing. The movie — directed by Stanley Kubrick — stuck pretty close to the book — with Malcolm McDowell narrating the novella. I had to tear the Nadsat-English dictionary out of the back to understand the text. In the course, I learned that Clockwork was Anthony Burgess’ response to 1984. Also, Burgess wrote this in 21 days. Later, when Burgess made campus tours, I got to meet him. He shared that he wrote the Alex character for Mick Jagger, but Jagger was filming Ned Kelly in Australia. Malcolm McDowell assumed the role and etched his place in cinema history. I saw the movie a year before the class and didn’t understand it. Read the book in the class then saw the picture again and it made a lot more sense. I didn’t pursue Burgess’ work but developed a keen interest in Kubrick.
I think we had to read twelve books in the course including Fahrenheit 451, 1984, and A Canticle for Leibowitz but these did not have much of an impact on me.
In the course, I trudged through, not realizing ideas were planted in my head. I scratched out a “C” in the course. I wrote a three-page scathing review of the course and Dr. Erisman for faculty review.
Fast forward to 1996–22 years.
Now “Doctor” Kuni Beasley is the Dean of a College Prep Academy and responsible to develop the curriculum. I didn’t like any of the English curriculums because they didn’t really prepare students for college, so I wrote my own. Little did I know that it was the ghost of Dr. Erisman writing the literature curriculum through my sub-conscious.
I had an English professor review it. She asked, “Where did you get this?” I started to speak and stopped abruptly. Dr. Erisman flashed in my mind from 22 years before. I continued, “I learned this in Science Fiction Literature class my sophomore year.”
It felt like God had put a hand on my shoulder to tell me I had a moral debt to repay.
I contacted the college and learned that Dr. Erisman was getting ready to retire. I made an appointment and drove two hours to see him.
I sat in the outer office as I was announced into his office, “A Dr. Beasley here to see you.”
I stopped for a second, “I am not Dr. Beasley here. It is simply Kuni Beasley, a former student here for contrition.”
I walked in and we shook hands and both sat.
“Dr. Erisman, you don’t remember me, do you? Kuni Beasley?”
He studied me for a second.
“I was in your Science Fiction Literature class spring 1974.”
“Oh, yes. The class that had a rebellion.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Dr. Erisman, I have come to eat crow. I have to confess that I was very wrong about you. I was too immature, too lazy, too selfish, and too stupid to realize what you were trying to give me in that class.”
He chuckled a little.
I apologize for that scathing three-page review I gave you.
He paused for a moment. I could see his eyes open from recognition.
“I remember you, Kuni. You fired the cannon at the football games. You had some tall, blonde girlfriend who would wait outside the class. You had more hair then.”
“Yep — more people remember the blond than the cannon.”
“I came here to apologize, Sir, for my insolence in the class and for that review I wrote.”
“Don’t worry, Kuni. We had a lot of fun with that review in the faculty lounge.”
For the next 20 minutes, I shared how I developed my school’s English curriculum based on what I learned in his class and that I scratched out a “C” in his class.
“So you’re a doctor now.”
“Yes, actually two doctorates: one in Urban and Public Administration, and another in Greek and Hebrew.”
He raised his eyebrows and nodded approvingly. “Impressive.”
“You know, Kuni, from what I remember from that class, you would probably be the last person I would ever expect to get a Ph.D.”
“I take that as a compliment, Sir.”
After a few more minutes of small talk, it was time to leave.
We both stood. “Rarely does a professor get to see a student return to thank them. This means a lot, Kuni.”
He choked up a little as did I.
“It was an honor and privilege to come here today, Dr. Erisman.”
“There is not a day the goes by that I don’t think about your impact.”
“Every day in my mind I hear ‘Eloi, Eloi.’”
We shook. “Eloi, Eloi, Dr. Erisman.” He smiled.
I left. I owe him a great debt of gratitude.
Eloi, Eloi.
Kuni Beasley
