Carol’s Column

Joining the club in university of life

IT IS not inexpensive educating children and there's no doubt that had I known what I know now, I would have had .7 of a child instead of four.

However, what was, was.

And what is, is.

Our youngest unmarried son, Jamie, has fled the nest and is now a resident of that venerable seat of learning, Rhodes University. In order to pay for his tertiary education, I have sacrificed my crimson chariot and ride to work on a flat-footed but sturdy donkey. I am also moonlighting at night and have become a singer of Latvian love songs.

We were a little concerned that we had not heard from Jamie for a few weeks. "Do you think our little boy's all right?" I said anxiously to my husband as we ate breakfast under the oak tree (due to the fact that the house is still uninhabitable due to building operations). As the wors sizzled in the skottelbraai, I turned the toast over the fire. "Do you think he's missing us?" I asked.

"No," replied my husband.

However, mothers tend to get somewhat anxious which is why, when the phone rang and I heard my son's dulcet voice saying: "Hi, Ma, I've got no money, phone me back," I was overjoyed.

As instructed, I immediately returned Jamie's call.

I tried not to cry with the emotion of the moment.

"Hi, Ma," said my son. "The food is disgusting here. This morning I had a dream at 3 am. I dreamt that I was in our kitchen opening the fridge. As it opened, there were three large boxes of ice cream on the top shelf. One was chocolate chip, one was vanilla and the third was chocolate and vanilla. I ate them all."

I gathered my thoughts and made the right social noises. "So how's varsity?" I asked cheerfully.

"Great, it's really great," replied my son. "I joined the karate club, the deep-sea diving club, the sailing club, the mountaineering club, the wine-tasting club, the Hellenic club, the South African Union of Jewish Students. I wanted to join the sky diving club but I can't afford the R170 subscription fee."

I was momentarily speechless. But mothers are a resilient breed and I got my vocal chords into action.

"But Jamie, why did you join the Hellenic club?" I asked. "Surely it's only for Greek students?"

"Ma," replied my son, "the Hellenic club throws the best parties on campus. The food is incredible and this week they're having a plate-smashing party with over 3 000 plates."

"And the South African Union of Jewish Students?" I murmured. (My third son is a goodly young man, but is not renowned for his religious or spiritual devotion).

"Ma, they've got some super girls and on Friday nights if you go to synagogue they give you dinner after the service which means I can have supper at res, shoot off to shul and then have a second supper afterwards."

"And the wine tasting club?"

"Ma, culture is important. Surely you wouldn't want me to graduate without knowing one wine from another? Besides, part of the course is tasting the wines and the tasting comes complete with different cheeses."

"Talking about graduation," I said with alacrity, "how are your studies going?"

"Fine," said Jamie.

"It's lovely talking to you," I said to my Son the Student. "Please don't wait for a month before you phone again. In fact, why don't you drop us a line?"

The response to the last suggestion was what psychologists call minimal.

And then only yesterday we received a telegram from Jamie. It said: "Please send tuxedo, shirt, bow-tie and cummerbund urgently. Budget news disheartening for penurious student, extra one percent sales tax untenable. Allowance increase imperative. Also please send crash helmet for sky-diving. Have taken out a loan and joined sky-diving club. Look on it as future investment. PS. Have joined both Christian Students' Association, the Muslim Students' Associations and the Black Students' Society.

It's giving me a wide perspective. Love, Jamie."

Only yesterday, while discussing with the book club girls various intellectual topics (such as the Krebs case and whether or not one should wear high heels in bed), someone brought up P W's name.

"He should go," said Agatha Crump, "but I don't know if F W is the right person to take his place."

"No," said Bertha Ginkel, "what we need is someone with vision, someone with broad experience, someone with perspective, someone young."

"I've got just the person," I said modestly.

Well, why not? How nice to be able to say "My Son The President."

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