For the first time in more than 25 years, I spent time with a man whom I truly respect and admire…my college advisor, Dr. Don Ranly, or (affectionately referred to as “Ranly” by his journalism students). Together with my husband, we reminisced about his “Seven C’s of Writing,” the introductory journalism class Ranly taught all aspiring j-heads, and our miserable-to-us experiences working for The Missourian as magazine students. Ranly is the professor who retaught us grammar rules and intricacies of the eight parts of speech. He trained us to bend these rules creatively, but without breaking them. He ensured that his students recognized that “The editor is God” within the publication process. His license plate simply reads, “I EDIT”…enough said.

As we walked from the journalism school to our car, my husband and I shared how we first met in the dorms, bonded while studying for his classes, remained friends over the years, and blended our families 6 ½ years ago. “We often discuss writing and words,” I said. “In fact, we even find ourselves debating over grammar points like the serial comma.” Oh yes, I wanted to remind him that I still remembered those lessons and their importance.

“Well,” he said with a wry smile and slight nod of his head, “how about that.” I recognized the familiar cadence of this oft-repeated phrase. In his characteristically calm and quiet voice, he tended to linger lovingly over that first word “Well.” The utterance evoked a feeling of awe and wonder. In our lecture class, this phrase often followed  a student’s “impressive” tale of an experience during a summer internship or after providing a “profound” insight into that day’s lesson. I felt 19-years-old again!

Wishing to further impress our dear professor and editing guru, I proudly rambled on about how happy I was that AP Style (the grammar authority and “Bible” of all professional communicators) had finally settled the disagreement in our home by determining that a comma should be placed before the “and” in a series (e.g., “apples, oranges, and bananas”).

Ranly stopped. His eyes grew wide in surprise. “Whaaaat!?! The AP Style has adopted the Oxford comma!” 

Truth be told, I had entirely forgotten that this particular grammatical construction even had a formal name, but I played it off. “Yep! John told me about it a few months ago.” My husband nodded to confirm. 

How wonderful to have broken this news to him! A journalistic scoop! A triumph! 

We continued our walk and neared the stone pillars that flank the road leading to the university’s quad with its iconic columns. Ranly stopped again and pointed to the writing on one of the pillars. “Have you seen that before?” 

My husband and I looked at the inscription: NONINSPECTACVLVMSEDINSTVDIVM” We told him that, yes, we had noticed it.

“Ahhh. Usually when I ask people, they haven’t noticed it before. They walk past, but never notice it,” he said. “Do you know what it is?”

Uhhhhh- I struggled. My brain whirled. I cautiously said, “I believe that is Latin.” Oh yes, I had taken some Latin in high school and taught it to my boys; however, that had been years ago. I knew to replace each “V” with a “U”…I remembered that “non” meant “not” and “studium” meant “study,” but I was stumped. I would never become a great Latin scholar. I admitted my defeat.

“It’s from Seneca. Well, actually, the quote should be, ‘In studium non inspetaculum,’” Ranly proudly told us. With that, he was the professor we had known and loved. He shared that Seneca’s quote translates as, “In study not spectacle,” but this inscription actually reads, “Not in spectacle, but in study.” A subtle yet different meaning. With our beloved j-school at one end of the campus and the stadiums at the other, Ranly wished that more people who passed by these pillars would remember to prioritize study above spectacle in their learning pursuits. 

“I often think about who chose to place these words here,” he said. “Wouldn’t that be wonderful to learn!” 

With that momentary lesson, my advisor and mentor reminded me to remain alert and curious, to seek answers to even “little” questions, to share what I know and experience, and most of all to treasure my learning. He reaffirmed my thirst for a life full of learning and educating!