A Gift of Vision
“A or B?”
“B.”
“C or D?”
“C.”
“1 or 2?”
“2.”
As I answered my eye doctor’s questions, things in the world began to appear clearer, brighter, and sharper than I had thought possible. I was 12 years old and assumed everyone had been seeing the world as I had. But Dr. Goodwin putting lenses in front of my eyes—and my world becoming more vivid every time I answered one of his questions—fascinated me. I wanted to know more, and I wanted others to experience what I had just experienced. I wanted to be an optometrist.
It’s interesting how moments like this affect our paths in life. Even when the anticipated path changes again, the journey still opens into opportunities. No, I’m not an optometrist. But my interest in becoming one led to my decision to attend Wabash and major in biology, putting me in the advising group led by Dr. Tom Cole ’58.
Dr. Cole, or T. coli, as we sometimes called him, was so mild-mannered, so soft-spoken, and so smart that he was intimidating to me. His name was on our textbook—I had never known anyone who wrote a textbook!
So how would this advisor-advisee relationship go? What would we discuss? Why would Dr. Cole care about me? Dr. Cole was a graduate of Cal Tech and a legendary Wabash professor, while I was a below-average biology student. Dr. Cole had the reputation of having a photographic memory, while I had the reputation of avoiding the library. Dr. Cole was stoic, while I was a goofy kid who didn’t take much seriously. Dr. Cole wrote textbooks, while I read the sports page.
But I would have to find a way to get through it, because he was my advisor. I didn’t realize then that he would become much more.
One day we met to discuss my upcoming class schedule and various academic options. Then Dr. Cole asked me about a baseball game I had played in. I was shocked. He had actually been there! Dr. Cole went to our games—baseball, football, basketball! He saw what he called “a synergy” between the classroom and extra-curricular activities, including those on the playing field. He loved sports and enjoyed talking about them.
Over the years we talked about many things. He helped me think through my next steps after graduation. I came to appreciate his dry sense of humor and wit. We became friends. The fact that this legend cared and asked about my life outside of class was humbling.
When I returned to work at Wabash several years later I came to appreciate knowing him even more, but that time was cut short. During the fall of 1997 he was diagnosed with cancer. He taught his classes as usual that semester until he was hospitalized in November. When I visited him there he thanked me for coming and gave me one of his slight, sly grins. Dr. Cole died in April 1998.
I am grateful to have known such a man and this place—both helped me see the world more clearly and vividly, not unlike those lenses placed in front of my eyes 45 years ago.
STEVE HOFFMAN ’85 Director, Alumni and Parent Relations hoffmans@wabash.edu