“Now, I am going outside to smoke,” Professor Frankel said, rising from the table trailing his linen napkin, walking with the shuffle of an old man.

“He said that to me before,” Astrid said, nonchalantly. “I just looked at him like he’d told me it was raining. I like to make him squirm.”

To think: Only a year before, when I was senior in college, I was still seeking out Frankel’s time and attention. Now the thought of being alone with him made me shudder. But since he was my favorite teacher — a prominent, talented writer who bathed me in the strange, intimate flattery of being a favorite student — it was difficult to overestimate his impact on my life. Other than my parents, he was the only adult who had ever taken a strong interest in me. And I credited him with helping me get through college. But now with his words of “love” and “walking around inside my mind” he’d brought the unpleasant truth of our relationship crashing into my consciousness. Behind all our discussions about language and literature, we had always, quietly, been speaking about something more unruly — that precarious place where fact and fiction blur, where teacher and student meet and fall, somehow, in love.

- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - -
-

“This is a class about reporting the truth, Stromberg. You’ve given me lies,” Frankel bellowed from the back of the classroom in the first real class of my freshman year of college. The room was deadly silent; all my classmates stared at me. Moments earlier he had showered me with praise. “This is wonderful writing. Wonderful! Now, read it in your father’s voice.”

He’d jumped from his chair and raised his right arm, pointing at me like a
conductor poised for the finale of a movement.

“P-professor,” I stuttered.

“Just do it! You’ve heard your father speak a thousand times, just mimic him. Don’t be nervous. If you can write something this good, this evocative, then you can read it with equal fervor.”

I hadn’t actually considered the possibility that Professor Frankel might
believe my story, or that I’d have to read it in front of the class. I had become enraptured by his brilliant performance at the introductory class.
He’d talked about storytelling, writing about lives. He gave his potential
students an assignment: Write a story about our families in 24 hours.

My passion for getting into his class had greatly outweighed any inspiration I felt to write about my family. We were normal. We had no stories. Finally, desperately, I eked out a story about imaginary parents. Whether or not they were real seemed irrelevant to me.

Now, sitting in front of the class, I tried to imagine what my overall-clad,
balding, beer-drinking, trailer-park dwelling imaginary father would sound
like. But this depiction was so far from the truth that my mind went blank.

“This isn’t really about my father,” I stammered. “I made this up. I wasn’t trying to deceive you. I just wanted to get into this class.”

Professor Frankel’s eyes widened and his Einstein-like hair seemed to stand on end.

“This is the worst thing that any of you can ever do!” he yelled. “I should kick you out of my class for these lies.” His voice trailed off. The class waited for him to finish. “This is a class about reporting the truth,” he hissed, pounding the table. “The truth! Class dismissed.”

“Stromberg is obviously very talented but at what remains unseen.”

Three months later, at the end of the semester, Professor Frankel had indicted me again, this time by writing an evaluation that was part of my official school record. I reread the sentence in amazement, unsure if I’d been insulted or praised.

“Following her first deception this professor was never sure whether or not he could trust her.”

What was he trying to do to me? I’d persevered through his class despite our “misunderstanding,” telling myself I was doing the right thing by meeting his challenge. We worked intensively on my prose and by every indication I was excelling in his class. He even went so far as to encourage me when I didn’t deserve to be encouraged. But now Professor Frankel had gone too far. In retaliation, I wrote an evaluation of him to his file. At my small liberal arts college, students and professors were expected to evaluate each other. It was part of the deal.

“Professor Frankel has crossed the line between personal and professional by
trying to become too involved in his students’ lives.”

It was difficult to describe what I meant. His evaluation of me was
insensitive and mean-spirited, but it was hardly a crime. Yet there was
something else, something less tangible, insidious, like a peculiar smell in
a room. Professor Frankel cared too much about me. He seemed to
take my writing personally, though it had nothing to do with him. That he’d
taken the time to write the scathing evaluation of me was a clue.

And yet that interest in me was also the reason he’d paid any attention to my writing. And in some way the act of writing the letter was still about my admiration for this passionate, eccentric man. Though we’d butted heads, I respected him for standing his ground. And this was what I was trying to do.

I signed it and submitted it to his department. I felt relieved to have the
whole thing over with. I stopped writing and averted my eyes when we passed
on campus. The years passed and I delved into my other studies: religion, anthropology, legal theory. I became enraged when a class discussed sexual harassment. I vowed to become a lawyer.

Three years later I returned to Professor Frankel’s class.

I sat slouched in my chair at the back of the classroom hoping he wouldn’t
recognize me. He explained that it would be a class of literary journalism and we would be placing ourselves in “the thick of life.” The assignment was to write a story about an epiphany we’d had. As before, we had 24 hours.

For once I knew exactly what I would write about. The previous summer I’d
worked for a man named Joey Escovini at a shoe store. “Do whatever it takes to sell the shoe,” he’d say, winking his good eye and staring at my breasts. “Whatever it takes.” That summer had been torture, an exercise in tolerance and a firsthand lesson in sexual harassment. I had a lot to say.

I typed feverishly for several hours, then tiptoed up the stairs to Professor Frankel’s office and quietly slid my story under the door. When I returned to my dorm room 20 minutes later the phone rang.

“Stromberg. This is Professor Frankel. Can you come to my office? We need
to talk about our past.”

“Our past?” I thought sarcastically. The next thing you’ll be talking about is “our future.”

But a few minutes later I sat before Professor Frankel in his office. “Stromberg. I need to know why you wrote this letter to my file,” he said,
lifting a sheet of paper from his desk.

I had expected him to apologize to me for the evaluation he’d written, and
possibly to pummel me with the meaning of “truth” one more time. I’d all but forgotten about my letter. Besides, I didn’t think I should apologize for what I’d written. I wasn’t sorry. At the time, it had seemed like the right thing to do.

“I wrote that letter because I felt upset about how I’d been treated in your
class. I was mad at you for what you wrote in my evaluation. I was just
telling my version of things.”

Professor Frankel was silent. He looked more sad than indignant, a shabby
puddle of a man melting in his chair.

“Maybe my attempt to report the truth was misguided,” I said. “You know about my problems with truth.”

He gave no indication he found my joke amusing. Then, suddenly, a wave of
confidence splashed over me. “I came to your class this morning because I think that I can learn something from you regardless of our past. The story I submitted is true. I don’t know if it’s good enough to get me into your class, but it’s true.”

“The story is good enough,” Professor Frankel said, quickly. “You will find
your name on my class roster.”

Then, as abruptly as he would later excuse himself from the restaurant table
after pronouncing his love to his former students, he changed the subject.

“Have you thought about what you will be doing for your thesis?”

“Oh. Yes. I mean no. I mean I’ve thought about it but no, I have no idea
what I’m doing.” I bit my lip, willing myself not to break down in his office.
As the last few months of college rapidly approached I felt increasingly
anxious about what I was going to do. Just as willing as I had been to turn him in as a quasi-harasser, I was now eager for his words of wisdom about my future. Despite all my sense of growing maturity — I was still his student, hungry for his influence.

“I’d like you to consider writing your thesis in literary journalism. Write about whatever you’d like. Write about life. But don’t waste your talent on bullshit analytical papers that you don’t care about. The story you wrote for my class had so much power. Did you like writing it?”

“Like writing it?” I thought for a moment. “Like didn’t come into it. I had to write it.”

My answer was an epiphany. Suddenly, hundreds of stories filled my head.
Professor Frankel had just spoken about education in a way I’d never
considered. He wasn’t interested in what I thought I “should” do. He was
encouraging me to listen to my heart and trust my instincts.

“Stromberg, I’d like to head up your thesis committee. Think about it and get back to me.”

Then he turned to his desk and began shuffling papers, an indication that our meeting was over.

- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - -
-

“Shall we order another bottle of wine?” Frankel said. The conversation had
languished since he’d told us he’d fallen in love with us. “Why did you wreck everything?” I wanted to demand. But I remained quiet because there was a part of me that wanted to salvage our relationship, such as it was.

None of us wanted wine. Frankel became sullen. He pulled the silver credit
card from his wallet. “This one’s on your alma mater,” he said bitterly.

Quickly, Astrid and Esther said goodbye and left.

“Don’t be so nervous, Stromberg,” he said, leaning toward me. “I don’t bite.”

I took a deep breath wondering what he’d say next.

“I’d like to see your apartment.”

The real Frankel loomed in front of me, stripped of his professorial mystique.

“Take me to your apartment,” said the drunken man. “I’ve always wanted to see where you live.” I started to laugh. He didn’t have access
to my inner thoughts anymore. It was as if Frankel had taken my writings
personally — that by trusting him to read and comment on my inner thoughts,
I’d been communicating a deeper affection.

“What’s so funny, Stromberg,” he said, irritably.

“Don’t you get it, Frankel? You didn’t fall in love with me. You
fell in love with an idea. You’ve fallen for the romance of the proverbial
student-professor relationship. But it’s not like that for us. I’m not the
person you think you know from reading my writing. And you’re not coming
to my apartment.”

This is what I wish I’d said. But the truth was, I’d fallen in love with an
idea as well. I’d fallen for the idea of Frankel as a perfect being, the
ultimate professor: brilliant, inspiring, dedicated, harmless. But I’d
forgotten that Frankel was human — complicated as any person. And
stranger than most.

“No, you can’t come to my apartment,” I said, shaking my head. “But thank you for dinner, Frankel, really. The rack of lamb was delicious.”

Then we stood silently for an excruciating moment, taking each other in. But there was still a part of me that wanted to preserve the memory of the person I’d respected and revered. “I’m working on a story right now,” I said slowly. “Maybe when it’s finished I could send it to you and you could let me know what you think.”

“I’d like that, Stromberg,” he said quietly, looking away. “I really would.”

- – - – - – + From the South China Morning Post
The Berlin Wall was once a grim symbol of division, but to some it has now become a precious piece of history. A businessman named Erich Stanke is fighting with the city of Berlin to preserve the last remaining authentic section of the wall — a 960-meter stretch he owns, which stands at the Potsdamer Platz border crossing. The city wants to get rid of the wall so an access road can be built. “The wall must remain; this is my only aim,” Stanke said. “I’m broke, but it would be my greatest triumph.”

- – - – - – + From ABC News
In its annual roundup of airports with the most delays, the Federal Aviation Administration placed Newark, N.J., at the top of its list for the third year in a row. Last year, Newark had 31,924 delayed flights. A flight is defined as late when it is 15 minutes or more off schedule. San Francisco, with 29,409 delays, ranked second, followed by Chicago’s O’Hare Airport, Atlanta’s Hartsfield International and New York’s LaGuardia.

- – - – - – + From the International Herald Tribune
After Abdullah Ocalan, the commander of the Kurdish Workers Party, was arrested by Turkish authorities in Kenya Tuesday, Kurds stormed embassies throughout Europe in protest. Greek, Kenyan and Israeli embassies were the main targets, for what Kurds saw as their complicity in Ocalan’s arrest. In light of Europe’s volatility, the U.S. State Department put out a worldwide caution Tuesday to Americans living or traveling abroad.

- – - – - – + From the Globe and Mail
With tourism becoming an increasingly substantial part of Cuba’s economy, the country’s national assembly passed a new law that proposes tougher penalties against crimes such as murder, prostitution and drug smuggling that may affect the tourist trade. Another new law toughens Cuba’s stance against people who “collaborate” with the U.S. government.

- – - – - – + From theTrip.com
Following a decade of losses, Trans World Airlines announced Wednesday that it will be cutting 1,000 jobs. The airline, which lost $120.5 million last year — $42.6 million in the fourth quarter alone — will consider other measures to reduce its spending, including closing additional facilities. TWA blamed some of the losses on the closing of its Los Angeles reservation office, the retirement of old 727s and DC9s and the restructuring of some domestic and international operations.

- – - – - – + From ABC News
A labor dispute over American Airlines’ acquisition of Reno Air led hundreds of pilots to call in sick, grounding 2,500 flights and stranding about 200,000 people. On Wednesday, a federal judge intervened, ordering the pilots to go back to work or possibly be held in contempt of court. The dispute stems from the pay differential between the pilots from the two airlines; some American Airlines pilots make twice as much as those at Reno — a difference in pay the American pilots want corrected as soon as possible.

- – - – - – + From the Washington Post
Avalanches in the French Alps buried 17 mountain chalets Tuesday, leaving 10 dead and others still missing. Throughout the week search parties continued to look for a missing skier in Courchevel and at least two others in the mountains near Le Tour and Montroc-le-Planet. The snowfall, which trapped thousands in the province of Tyrol, Austria, and caused evacuations in Switzerland, Austria and Germany, is being called the heaviest to hit Europe in decades.

- – - – - – + From the London Times
In the future, flights to Asia from America and Europe may be rerouted over the North Pole. Russia is opening up its airspace, a move that could save up to one hour on flights from Britain to Japan and five from New York to Hong Kong. Russian officials expect to open the polar airspace to foreign planes by next year, and to earn money from it — $200 million in the next decade alone.

- – - – - – + From the Miami Herald
Semester at Sea, an educational program that takes U.S. students to destinations around the world, will sail into Cuba later this month with what is believed to be the largest group of U.S. citizens to travel to the embargoed country in 40 years. The U.S. Treasury Department and the Cuban government approved the trip, which will last three days and include lessons on Cuban education, health care and architecture.

- – - – - – + From CNN
Citing the recent kidnappings of foreign visitors, British Airways announced that it will delay its scheduled relaunch of flights to Yemen. The airline canceled its Yemen route in 1994 but had planned to recommence service this April. In light of the kidnappings, it will push back its planned two-flight-a-week service until November.

- – - – - – + From MSNBC
It may be Israel’s most interesting bridge to the past yet. On Monday, Israel’s National Parks Authority gave the go-ahead for the construction of a bridge on the spot where Jesus walked on water. The semi-floating bridge, which will be 13 feet wide and 28 feet long, will be two inches below the water at Capernaum, in the Sea of Galilee. This is just one of many projects Israel is developing for the millennium, when the country expects about 4 million visitors.

- – - – - – + From the Trip.com
With consumer complaints on the rise, Sens. Ron Wyden, D-Ore., and John McCain, R-Ariz., have written a bill that will take on the airline industry’s less than exemplary service record. If passed, the bill will allow passengers to cancel nonrefundable tickets 48 hours prior to departure and require airlines to explain why flights are delayed. “The real point is to make sure that the airlines bring some of their creativity and extraordinary entrepreneurial skill into making sure that the passengers who use their service get through without feeling like a dish rag,” said Wyden. But not everybody thinks the proposed legislation is a good idea, including the Air Travelers Association, whose president said it might upset the low fares currently being offered.

- – - – - – + From the New York Times
While the concept may seem antiquated — being attacked by armed raiders while sailing the high seas — the number of fatal pirate attacks increased substantially in 1998. The International Maritime Bureau announced Wednesday that 67 people were killed by marauding pirates in 1998, up 16 from the previous year. Most pirate attacks — and ship hijacks — occur in the waters off of the Philippines, India, Malaysia, Bangladesh, Somalia, Ecuador, Brazil and Indonesia.

- – - – - – + From CNN
Despite the $6.8 billion surplus in the aviation trust fund, a Federal Aviation Administration bill introduced Wednesday included a proposal to increase the cost of stopping at airports from $3 to $5 per ticket. The money generated from the tax would go toward airport improvements. While most of the cost is expected to affect the airlines, there could be a trickle-down affect for passengers.

- – - – - – + From the International Herald Tribune
In an effort to thwart future attacks on American embassies, the State Department is pouring resources into counterterrorism — including installing protective guards over windows in case bombs explode and send flying shards. The FAA is also buying CAT scan equipment for airports to use in searching luggage for explosives, and intelligence agencies are reportedly planning on spending part of their $350 million on eavesdropping and communications equipment. Last summer, bombs destroyed two embassies, one in Nairobi and the other in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania.

- – - – - – + From the London Times
When Punxsutawney Phil didn’t see his shadow this year, to many, it meant that spring would arrive early. But to others — namely the People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals — it signified another year of abusive treatment for the underground-dwelling furry creature. The group wants to have the Groundhog Day rite canceled, and has even tried without success to recruit Bill Murray, star of a film about the century-old event. “Someone’s got to speak up for the groundhogs,” said a spokesman for the group. “This poor creature is dragged into the daylight with people screaming at him. You only have to look into his eyes to see how bewildered he is.”

- – - – - – + From ABC News
In Peru, heavy rains have caused the suspension of train service from Cusco to Machu Picchu for at least 20 days. A landslide caused a river to flood the train tracks, and until they can be repaired, tourists are left with only one transportation option — helicopters. Although helicopters can accommodate up to 900 tourists a day, authorities say many visitors probably won’t want to travel this way since it can cost up to three times more than the train.

- – - – - – + From MSNBC
It’s a modest goal of half a degree, but if engineers are successful, the Leaning Tower of Pisa just might stand more erect. Excavation began Tuesday in an attempt to stabilize the Renaissance bell tower, which now leans 16 feet from vertical and has sunk 10 feet into the spongy soil. If the work goes well, the Pisa Commission chief says the monument could be reopened to the public later this year.

- – - – - – + From the Washington Post
An earthquake measuring 6.0 on the Richter scale hit in the coffee-growing region of Armenia, Colombia, Monday, leaving 878 confirmed dead, more than 3,410 injured and others still unaccounted for. It is being called the worst earthquake to devastate the country in the last century. On-site observers say Armenia is “on the verge of anarchy” due to looting and delays in medical care and the delivery of food, water, clothes and other necessities. The president of Colombia, Andres Pastrana, pledged an initial $12.6 million to help in the rebuilding of homes.

- – - – - – + From the International Herald Tribune
For the first time in 24 years, the Indonesian government said that it will consider freeing East Timor. The move is part of President B.J. Habibie’s plan to stabilize the Indonesian government by implementing political reforms and improving human rights. It also follows the United Nations’ recognition of Portugal — to which the island belonged until Indonesia invaded in 1975 — as the “legitimate administering authority.”

- – - – - – + From the Sydney Morning Herald
At Sydney’s airport, where there has been mounting criticism over the scarcity of cabs, passengers waited in lines of up to 500 people for a taxi Wednesday night. Cabbies blamed holiday traffic and a new split arrival-departures roadway system. The debate is especially cantankerous since the city is gearing up for the onslaught of Olympics-bound visitors in 2000.

- – - – - – + From CNN
There’s no doubt that, at 565 pounds, Konishiki is impressive to look at. But how alluring is he? Hawaiian tourism officials kicked off the beginning of a multimedia campaign in Japan this week, featuring the former sumo wrestler floating on an inner tube, singing “Blue Hawaii.” Officials hope he will entice visitors to the Aloha State, which is suffering a decline in tourism.