Memoirs Eugene Leone

Over the next 11 months we will be sharing the Memoirs That Made Me Who I Am. These are compiled stories written about the life of a former Gallup resident Eugene Leone.

Before his passing, he wrote, “It is with great delight that I share these stories from my heart, which have been inside for many years. My desire is that the reader would be able to go back to a time that was very real and may have been lost through the years.

Chapter Nine Poke

II arrived in Omaha for my second year at Creighton University in the wonderful company of my new bride who, quite frankly, is the best thing that ever happened to me. The grocer who owned the rental apartment accompanied us on a short walk-up California Street, which also ran up to the church and administration building of Creighton. The apartment was on the second floor of an old building, but which had been well cared for. We went in and were pleased to see a nice living room, small bedroom, bathroom, and a pantry. The rent was reasonable, and our landlord was our grocer, butcher and was good-humored;

what more could you ask for? Neighbors we soon met were both very pleasant and cordial. When I asked one of them what kind of work he did, he said, “the worst kind. I pilot an Army Air Force Bomber, and I can tell you that mine is just one of many such bombers that go out on worldwide patrol, staying up and out there for weeks at a time. Each carried not one, but two atomic bombs, and as such were said to be the principal deterrent to the Russian intruders, and it obviously worked.” I thanked him for doing the difficult job with a horrendous responsibility.

Each day when I went down the stairs to class, there would be this beautiful black shorthaired cat responding to my greeting with just the slightest flick of its tail to dismiss me as only a cat can. I love cats and hoped to make friends with her.

I registered at Creighton and was able to get into all of the classes required to earn a bachelor’s degree in science. Organic chemistry is called the chemistry of carbon, combined with many thousands of other chemicals that makes up our world of clothes, shoes, food, drink, cars, medicines, and on and on. It really is a very interesting study. The class in organic chemistry at Creighton was causing more student failure thank all of the many and varied classes in the entire college. As a result, no less than the Dean of Students, a Jesuit would come down from the administration to the dentistry building where Dr. Papadakis (a Greek) taught us organic chemistry. Our textbook was entitled, “Organic Chemistry,” (the author I cannot recall), but he was a personal friend of Dr. Papadakis, our instructor. Each periodic test, about every 2-3 weeks, consisted of any one combination of many pages out of our textbook with complex chemical formulas, and organic pictured chemical structures, compared to similar cyclical illustrations that boggle your mind. Any, and all of these symbols, script, or diagram must be reproduced by memory, without any significant errors. The test involved five pages out of the text, which were graded according to the student’s accuracy. Five pages correct= an A, four pages correct, =B, three pages correct, =C, 2 pages correct, = D, and five pages incorrect, =an F, complete with poison pills and

or banishment to Siberia. So that gives you the reader, some idea why I sometimes act a little weird (flashbacks).

So, back to one of the latenight studies; at about 11pm or so, I got up to stretch my legs and stuff, and walked over to the window. There was a full moon and the black cat (the one that would greet me at the bottom of the stairs) was still lying on the porch next door waiting, waiting for something, but what? In this area of Omaha, at the rear of many residences there were alleyways. It was in these alleys that the car garage opened into, and where the garbage cans were stored. It was about 11:15 pm when suddenly a male’s strong voice called out, “POKE, POKE,” you son of a bitch, where are you?” This is what “Poke” had been waiting for. The cat let out a loud cry of joy and recognition. They talked and cried together, and the old man still carrying Poke, headed into the yard, the two of them both still expressing their love, yes, love for each other. I shall treasure and remember this memory of this expression of rare love for the rest of my days, and I hope dear readers, yes hope, and pray that each of you are given the same joy as well.