A Charming conversation

              Eight in the morning is no longer early.  In fact, it's about the time I make it to my first class (which actually starts at 8:30). Yesterday, the art studio was locked and I found myself sitting on blue-carpeted floor of Snow, doing Geology homework.  The hallways were vacant, except for an elderly gentleman who was wearing a dark blue jumpsuit and I surmised was probably a janitor.  I didn't take much notice of him, as a rule, I'm not an initially friendly person at school, I don't say hi and wave first (unless and I know you and your name is Taleah), so I attempted no interaction with him except for the initial glance.  Unfortunately, he caught my eye, and no elder seems to resist a conversation with a willing (or unwilling) victim who looks them straight in the eye.
           "Are you a student here?" he asked me, he had to be in his 70's at least, and I do not sanction manner-less action towards the ancient, so I nodded.
            "Are you a student here?"  I asked with caution, hoping he wasn't a crazed lunatic looking for the old folk's home.
             "Yes, I am, and they told me the classroom would be opened early, but apparently they didn't mean very early."  He said.
           I smiled at him, wondering how long he had been wandering the halls hoping to catch a teacher or at least an open door somewhere.
          "Yeah, college kids get up around 10, so I'm sure your early wasn't quite what they were expecting." I said
          "I think you're right.  I get up at 4:00, and I thought I would wait around til 8:00 to come in.  I was hoping the doors would be open by now."
          "What room were you trying to get into?"  I asked.
           "Sculpture."
           I must have looked surprised, though that did explain the blue jumpsuit.
          "Have you ever seen the movie How to Steal A Million?" He asked as though it explained everything. I shook my head. "It had Audrey Hepburn and that guy from Lawerance of Arabia..."
         Here my ears pricked up, I love Audrey Hepburn and old movies.  I hoped I wouldn't seem like one of those newfangled kids who can't even appreciate a great movie but have to see something blow up every two seconds. I did know my Lawerance of Arabia (survived all four hours of it and loved it).
          "Peter O'Toole." I offered.  Obviously the sculpturing elderly was impressed.  He nodded and smiled.   What Audrey Hepburn and Peter O'Toole had to do with early mornings and sculpturing doors being locked, I could not fathom, but attempted to connect the dots as he spoke.  Explanations are especially entertaining from people whom you aren't certain even have a point. I kept nodding my head and smiling, encouraging him to use more words, more quickly, so that I could put the pieces together, but he obviously had his own timing. He reminded me of Jimmy Stewart, pausing statements to verify if I was still listening.
          More or less the plot Audrey Hepburn's father is a talented artist, specializing in forgeries.  A famous statue has been faked, and before it can be examined for insurance claims, they have to steal it back so that no one realizes it was a fake.  I determined I would have to look it up on Netflix.
          After explaining, he could tell that I was still trying to figure out what Audrey and Peter had to do with him wandering Snow College in search of a professor with a key to the sculpting room.  Was he trying to forge a sculpture and then steal it from a museum? Did he too, have hopes of wooing Audrey from her 60's days, and hadn't realized she had been dead for nearly 20 years?  Was he senile enough that I would have to guide him back home in a The Holiday-like fashion? Luckily, I didn't need to.
         "So, you're probably wondering what that movie had to do with my sculpting?"  He smiled, his eyes actually twinkling. (I swear they were) I must have nodded and smiled, looking like a kid talking to santa.
          "Well, you see, I've always wanted to learn how to sculpt, and I have in the past but this time, I wanted to make a statue of my wife." Aw...how sweet...and very Pygmalion! Please tell me she isn't dead? I'm not ready to weep on the floor of a college while waiting for the door to unlock.
             "I've always wanted to do a sculpture of her like Venus de Milo, even if after ten kids she doesn't exactly have the figure for it anymore." He chuckled
              I had to laugh, and almost cry.  Seriously, I couldn't think of a sweeter thing he could have said.  I've realized my dream is to have a husband who in his 70's and after ten kids together can still sculpture a statue of me being Venus de Milo. What a keeper! (I think I fell in love a little bit).  Soon after a teacher walked in, found keys to my Art room and his sculpture room and we separated, but it made me smile for the rest of the day.