Locked Out of Dad's office, Tom Saved the Day
I am deeply saddened by the coming demise of the Ad Building. Although I did spend my first two years of college at Manchester, my most vivid memories of it are from my childhood, spending the first 5 1/2 years of my life on College Ave before my family moved out to the country. I remember playing on the sidewalk in the early evening and hearing the chimes play, letting us know it was time to head home. Such a lovely way to wind down a day!
My dad is Charles Klingler, who taught English at Manchester for 30 years, I think. His first office later became T Wayne Rieman's, I believe, and then, Ken Brown's, maybe? My dad had a big reproduction of El Greco's Don Quixote hanging on the wall. Even though it would be several years before he wore a goatee, I often thought of the tall man on horse as him.
I also remember being around 4, when my 3 older siblings decided to take me along on one of their antics. They were somehow able to enter the bell tower and where I followed them up some very steep stairs. Once at the top, we peered out the open windows and dropped water balloons. It was thrilling!
One cold winter's night, after we had moved out to Singer Rd., my brother Tom and I were with my dad as he was closing his office. When we got to the car, he realized he had left both the car keys and his office keys in the office. Tom and I waited in the cold car (we left cars open in those days), while Dad went back to get the keys, only to find the office door had locked behind him when we left. Eventually, Tom, little monkey that he was, stood on my dad's shoulders and climbed into the window at the top of the door of the classroom that was attached to Dad's office. Tom climbed down, found the keys, and saved the day.
A year or so after the key incident, I had a knitting lesson on College Avenue after school and went to Dad's office afterward to wait for a ride home. I started to open the door to his classroom, but was having trouble with the door knob. All of a sudden, the door flung open. My dad stood there as I faced a room full of students. I was shocked and everyone laughed. He asked me to come in and I sat on the front row, frozen in self-consciousness, until the class ended.
My college memories aren't nearly as clear, but I can still smell the comfort of the old wooden floors of the Ad Building, always so shiny and warm, and perilously uneven. But they were also inviting and solid, welcoming young scholars to the journey of a liberal arts education, preluding a profound life.
Submitted by Rebecca J Klinger