Word gets around fast, you know, especially when it’s bad. Everybody realizes unless the Regents intervene before the wheels start to turn.
I’ve known for years that I wasn’t well, you understand. The decades of moisture have left me wheezy and susceptible to respiratory problems and strange black rashes. And all sorts of aches and pains in my joints. Not too unusual when you’re in your 70s. But still, a body gets tired.
I thought I was going to be getting the treatment so I could get better. You know, the treatment. Soule and Myers had the treatment, and Lord help us, they look 30 years younger if they look a day. Nobody thought twice about giving it or refusing it. They just did it.
about me, that’s right. Been talking about how good I am at my job, that I don’t need to retire, I can keep on , Lord love ‘em. Rutherford, she’s got it goin’ on, they said. They said this place—that was me—.
But the President, today he said, nope, Rutherford can't do her job any more. I’m not up to date, he said. Not modern. Well, I’m not modern, but I haven’t had many complaints from my students, now. They have loved me, and I have loved them. Keeping me on isn't cost effective, they say. Where was cost effective when they were giving Soule and Myers the treatment? Sitting at home with his feet propped up, that’s where.
The students seem sad today. I’m sad, too, but we’ll have a few more months together before they put me down, brick by brick. Unless the Regents tell the President no go.
Someone said the ones who want to tear me down want to retain my “historic details" when they build my replacement, but I don’t really know what that means. I don't think the Works Progress Administration is together any longer so there won't be any more residence halls like Ol' Rutherford.