A Brock Olivo jersey, hours upon hours of Sim City, an incredibly difficult college course and a relentless illness. Those were the “highlights” of Christmas in 1996.
I’d been home from Kansas State for more than a year and was in my first semester at Washburn University, a place I fell in love with immediately. Washburn reminded me of my experience at Burlingame High School, where the teachers were deeply invested in their students.
I was wrapping up the fall session and preparing for an hourlong presentation in one of the toughest classes I’d ever taken when I developed a slight cough and, at times, overwhelming fatigue. Not an ideal way to finish “Law and Ethics in Mass Media,” a grueling course taught by Lu Wolff, a demanding but fair professor who pushed and prodded her students.
The biggest portion of our grade in that class was the presentation, and I thought I’d struck gold when I drew “Obscenity in Media” as my topic. I figured there would be plenty of material, even in the early days of the internet.
I wasn’t wrong: There was more than enough material. What I didn’t realize was how difficult it is to actually stand in front of a class for an hour. Even though I prepared and outlined to the hilt, my presentation was done in 35 minutes.
“Your presentation was fine, but one thing we’ve learned: When you’re done, be done,” Dr. Wolff said. “Don’t keep talking just to try to fill the hour.”
Professor Wolff never minced words, a trait I was accustomed to after growing up with my father.
I ended up getting a B on the presentation, just enough to maintain my A in the course. To this day, it’s one of the grades in which I take the most pride. To say I was tired by that point is an understatement. I was thrilled to be finished with the semester and looking forward to the six-week intercession to rest.
The fatigue continued into the break, including during a trip to Columbia, Missouri, with the old man and my brother. I battled through that, of course, because it was a Christmas shopping trip for new clothes and other items. My big gift that year was a one-of-the-kind Brock Olivo (Mizzou’s starting running back) jersey.
In a time long before NIL, the NCAA didn’t allow college teams to sell jerseys with player names on the back. Fortunately for me, we found an Olivo jersey, and a lady at the store (likely not knowing the rules) sewed “Olivio” on the back. Like I said, one-of-a-kind.
I don’t remember much else about that Christmas. I do recall being exhausted, as if I couldn’t get enough sleep. I spent most of the six-week break at our first home computer, playing the first version of Sim City for hours on end.
Finally, my dad implored me to go to the doctor when it was clear I wasn’t getting much better. Months of appointments followed. At times, I felt OK. I even ran for several weeks. Then, in June of 1997 and with symptoms still lingering, my father demanded that I have my physician run a test for mono. I will never forget the sheepish look on the doctor’s face when he said, “You do have Epstein-Barr, in the final stages. I’m sorry we didn’t test for it when you asked before.”
In a matter of weeks, the illness was gone (or at least so I thought). I resumed running and an active college life. I didn’t think about mono again until 2016, when EBV flat-out kicked my ass.
Ironically, 20 years after my first battle with mono, I started feeling better for the first time in months during the holiday. Tis the season.
TWELVE DAYS 2025, PART V: ShowBiz, Dragon’s Lair and other difficult games
TWELVE DAYS 2025, PART IV: “Dutch,” a guilty pleasure
TWELVE DAYS 2025, PART III: Christmas in Independence
TWELVE DAYS 2025, PART II: Craving an NES Classic
TWELVE DAYS 2025, PART I: An update on the search for James Danny Hollingshead
ABOUT MY SECOND BOOK: THE OLD MAN
ORDER “GOODBYE, BUTTERFLY: MURDER, FAITH AND FORGIVENESS IN A SMALL KANSAS TOWN”