On the quiet sidewalks of UNF, few would have foreseen the drama that would soon unfold on a sunny spring time afternoon. When a number of unmarked "packages" were scattered around the campus. I am referring to the recent university art project in which a student chose to create an audio box that would play a message via a telephone for those who picked up the receiver. An concept like any other, though with a few minor, a concept that could have turned out a whole lot better.

If this were an era free of terrorism, these could have been presumed to be obsolete garbage, rather than a possible IED (improvised explosive device.) These days, simple technology that is rigged together could be mistaken for having overtly sinister applications and most individuals have been made to feel overly suspicious of seemingly harmless objects. For instance, a neighbor's cat, their own luggage or those green peas. Also consider that in this information age, most youths haven't seen a tick-tock bell-clock, let alone a rotary phone, anywhere outside their grandmother's house. Even a CD player can be looked at as "old fashioned."

It is then no surprise to hear that a concerned report of: a "black" box with "wires" protruding from it, connected to a dial phone, resting on a bench; might trigger a hastened response. Perhaps if the "packages" had been brightly colored and stenciled with suns, smiley-faces, hearts and peace signs; would they have seemed a little less out of place to the casual observer? Or would there have been the same level of attention given to this report as well?

Somehow I always manage to pick the worst days to skip school -- always missing the fun and excitement of a imminent danger. This sends me right back to the good old days of high school. Yes, a simpler time when all we had to worry about was gang activity, daily hallway drawls, a code orange attack from al-qaeda and worst of all, an outbreak of rancid lunch meat. Fortunately, these matters were always quickly dissolved before any serious repercussions could be felt. Not to mention our fool-proof first line of defense. Basically we were instructed by administrators to remain in our classrooms, turn off the lights, cover the windows with duct tape and hide in the dark. Brilliant, yes? So imagine my surprise to hear that the campus was briskly evacuated upon discovery of the "packages."

In retrospect, had the year been 1974, and this been a psychology experiment, the student would have immediately received an a for his efforts. And, possibly a spot on one of those bizarre black & white educational documentaries to describe the project.

There is a an angle of this event however that the news media neglected to explore. As Paul Harvey would say, stay tuned for "the rest of the story."

.. .. ..

Three days later, after being detained and suspected of education terrorism, the student is cleared of any wrong doing and is released from federal custady. He proceeds to return to his parent's home to try and avoid further attention. Tired and empty handed, he arrives, flopping down in an armchair. He is soon greeted by his mother, who asks warmly, "So, how did your art project go? Yes, the one you've been working on all hours of the night for weeks now, out there in the garage?" to which he replies, "Well, it got a little more attention than I expected." "Oh, that's fantastic, I'm so proud of you."

"What did passer's by think of the project?" "They thought they were suspicious and potentially dangerous. Security was called in to remove them and the campus was evacuated." "Amazing, students chose to forgo their classes and instead participate in your art project."

"Did the art project win an award or certificate?" "No, but I won free stay in county lock-up and I'm pretty sureI now have a record." "How thoughtful of them and good to know they keep track of newsmakers."

"Are they going to let you keep it on display?" "I doubt it. After the bomb squad retrieved the packages and exploded them in a vacent trailer park on the edge of town, there really wasn't much left." "That's wonderful dear. We should gather the ashes and store them in a pickle jar atop the refrigerator."

His father has only one comment, "Son, when the hell are you going to clean out the garage? Oh, Martha, what happened to all the telephones? You know I don't know how to work these dadgum cordless things..."

(Note: Some details have been elaborated for comic effect.)

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()a.k. 04.05.08)