Birds don’t speak in complete sentences, our prof told us. But jackdaws can say “Let’s fly south for the winter,” and he imitated their call. (I thought it sounded fine; the guy next to me thought it had too much of a Bronx honk).
“Let’s make love,” the jackdaws could say – and we heard the raucous sound.
Jackdaws could not say, in their own gravelly voices, “Let’s fly south for the winter and make love!”
But our prof could, and did – and so did we all, cawing and hooting all over the lecture hall and the cafeteria. Mating calls went roaring out over the Jell-O.
Our professor was famous for such stunts. Dr. Henry Gleitman was also a Holocaust survivor, though we didn’t know that. We Swarthmore sophomores saw an inventive brain, a comic wit, a delight in teaching us something kinda useful, but always unforgettable.
When I teach my lyrics for historical figures (Marie Antoinette getting her period at the guillotine, saying: “At least I’m not pregnant!”). I salute the memory of Dr. Gleitman. What a mighty, marvelous mensch.
More tales from school
6-legged freshmen go to college
