Those marks go away

I've been coming to the library for the last four years and I always see Marvin in the same spot with his backpack piled up on the table next to him, a stack of papers before him, and a book in his hands. He was in one of my classes two years ago, and he was a supremely quiet individual; I would always wonder why a man his age was taking a college class populated by a fresh crop of highschool graduates who make it their main goal in life to act like they don't care. He is a short man with a potruding belly, white thinning hair, large glasses and hands that shake; he has thoughtful green eyes that scan his surroundings as if he were scanning his memories when I would ask him a question. I talked to him for an hour about his life. I started asking him how he has survived college after seven degrees and 40+ years in the institution, but I eventually saw him as an idispensible source of knowledge that I would be a fool to pass on.

He approaches life with a calm that comes from 66 years of living and seeing most of the globe. I asked him what the best survival tactic he has learned throughout college and he said, "Don't give a shit. This stuff isn't that important." This appeared as an apparent contradiction to me because the man has 7 degrees. I never asked him directly about the contradiction, but as I am able to look over my memory of Marvin and can analyze what he taught me, I will aske the question: So how does a man with seven degrees (two of which are bachelor, and one of which is postgrad -- in addition to the postgrad he is taking now) approach education with such a fatalistic attitude? Slowly as more of Marvin was revealed to me I realized that it's the lifestyle he was advocating. He said that he has only taken classes that appeal to him, then looking at the course catalogue he would realize that he almost had enough for a degree so he would finish out the course just to get the degree.

Marvin said something to me that I will never forget. "Those marks go away." He was explaining how he has seen students rush through college to get a degree and a great job, to make the money and have a family, to set up shop and make their mark on the world, "... but those marks go away. That's what most people don't realize."
Those marks go away. I have seen the future in talking to Marvin. The man was a seer to me and gave me a glimpse into the world beyond my small, frigid scope that encapsulates Northern Nevada and the boundaries that my own introspection has explored. Those four words spoke a calming warmth to my restless spirit and let me know that I don't have to agonize over everything and pull out my hair over twelve or fifteen credits. I don't need to sweat or bleed anmore for a future that will ultimately be forgotten. Sure I'd love to be remembered and matter, but I choose now to matter in a different way. What if 43 years down the line I am sitting in a library and a good intentioned young man asks me the questions I asked Marvin, and tell this young man, "Those marks go away," and it changes his life lulling his frantic spirit back from the edge bringing it to places of tranquility.

Unfortuanately Marvin has a rapidly dwindling shelf-life. He has a blood clot in his lung that will eventually claim his life. In his case, the good don't die young. The good die ripe and when they are ready for the world to harvet their knowledge. I am going to try and stay in contact with him.