A ROOM OF MY OWN [Sun, 10-12-25]

 BEYOND WINTER: The Irrelevant Musings of An Old Man—A ROOM OF MY OWN [Sun, 10-12-25]

I did not have a room of my own until I was a senior in college. I had always wanted a room of my own, but it seemed strange when I actually got one. I was not used to living by myself.

Of course, dormitory living is never an isolated experience. There were guys up and down the hall in other rooms. I had known most of them for three years. The walls in our old BOQ building were so thin you could hear guys in the next room dealing cards. But, still, living in that single room was a bit strange 

When I was small, my parents and older sister and I shared a room in Cedar Crest, the big old farmhouse on the outskirts of Oxford, OH. My grandparents’ house had a lot of rooms, and during The Great Depression, there were plenty of people to fill them. I thought having lots of people in the house was not only normal but a good thing—always someone to pay attention to me, to play with me.

When we moved to Indianapolis, when I was four, I shared a room, first with my parents and then with my sister. When we moved to the farm near Oakland City, when I was ten, the house had only two bedrooms. My fourteen-year-old sister and my two-year-old sister shared one of them, and my parents were in the other. My one-year-old brother was in a crib with my parents, and I slept on a pullout sofa in the living room. As soon as Jimmy was out of his crib, he started sharing the sofa bed with me.

We did not have a car, so I walked many miles on dirt and gravel roads to go to church or to 4H or to a friend’s house, or even to town. I liked those walks. They were the only times I was by myself.

I liked my first roommate at IU, Tom Cone, and I liked Jim Barrett when Tom got a single after our sophomore year. Having a roommate in college was normal. So when I went to a single as a senior, even though I had yearned for years for my own space, it was a strange feeling, to live alone.

At the end of that senior year, Helen and I married, so I’ve had a roommate for 66 years. We had an extra room in our house in Dallas, where we directed a community center when I was a student in the Perkins School of Theology at Southern Methodist University. I thought I would use that as a study, my room, but IU friend Bob Parsons, also at Perkins, had no place to live, so we put him into that room.

Then little daughters came alone and always took up the extra rooms. When they finally we went off to college, I got a room of my own again. But it was too late…

…because I no longer need a room. All I need now is my laptop computer

I have a beautiful room of my own now. It has a desk and lamp and swivel chair and book shelves and metal filing cabinets. The shelves are crammed with wonderful unused books that have been superseded by Google. On the desk are a stapler and scotch tape dispenser and rolodex and paper clips and… well, all kinds of neat stuff I used to need but never use anymore.

I have a room of my own, and I don’t need it.

John Robert McFarland

Jesus said, “In my father’s house are many rooms.” [John 14:2] I hope mine is not a single.

 I have no idea why blogspot decided to underline some words above.