For What It’s Worth: The apocolypse?
By Larry Hook
Adviser of The Lookout
Last Friday afternoon, Oct. 16, I visited LCC’s campus for the first time since the coronavirus sent everyone scurrying for the safety of their homes seven months ago.
After filling out an online “Daily Health Screening” form to assure the LCC staff that I am virus free, I drove to LCC and parked in the mostly-empty LCC ramp. I then checked in with the LCC police to let them know I was there.
My purpose for being on campus was to pick up a few supplies, and also to see if everything was OK in the office (no pizza slices left on a desk from March, no flood under the refrigerator, etc.). My visit was pre-approved by Dean Ronda Miller of the Student Affairs Division.
Walking through the halls as I headed to The Lookout office on the third floor of the Gannon Building was eerie. There were no people, the lighting was dim and it was totally silent.
I unlocked the office door and looked around. It was as if there had been an apocalypse, and everything had stood completely still since I left The Lookout on Wednesday, March 18.
The calendar on the wall was still open to March, and the page had curled up as if it had been hanging there for a decade. A poster had fallen from the wall because the thumb tacks had fallen out.
Our whiteboard still had a list of stories on it that were intended to be published in late March. The planned stories included LCC baseball and softball games; events that never happened.
The list of the reporters on the whiteboard included several who no longer work for The Lookout, or even attend LCC anymore.
I looked in our mini-fridge to find that my cup filled with Diet Coke from Subway had turned into a giant block of ice. The bowl of Jolly Ranchers that we used to share with office guests, and with Basketball Coach Mike Ingram, were all stuck together.
I tidied up the office and grabbed a few supplies, including pencils, staples, Scotch tape and hand sanitizer, to take to my new home office. Then I took a few photos of the empty office and the LCC hallways before checking out with the police.
It was good to see the old stomping grounds, but sad to see it so empty. Classes, and the newspaper business, go on virtually, but things have changed so much over the past seven months, as my visit to LCC reminded me.
I guess my spooky visit was probably all the celebrating I will do for Halloween this year.