I think he’s shaved and cut his hair now, but this is the Chuck I know
Chuck was born Matthew Cooper, a name which he managed to hang onto until the moment I first saw him during fencing practice, pointed at him, and said, “Chuck.” He’s been Chuck ever since. Everyone in fencing called him Chuck. His girlfriend calls him Chuck. That’s just how it is. I don’t know if I should bear pride or guilt at that.
He joined the fencing club some time after I did. He was always a foilist, and got pretty good at it. He was team captain once, and that’s what he’ll always be to me. He had a bad habit of laughing and being terribly amused if someone was injured or mentioned grievous harm. One of his end-of-year awards was “Most likely to laugh if Billy dies,” Billy being a particularly clumsy club member at the time. If Chuck ever approached and said, “smell this,” the proper course of action was to leave immediately. He had a lot of gross stories, his most infamous being something Rod always called the “Pooper Cooper” story. I never allowed myself to listen to it.
His major was journalism and he wrote for the campus newspaper. I didn’t realize until putting together all of these posts that I knew so many people that were somehow associated with the Daily Cougar. It’ll stop some day. Chuck sometimes expressed anger and frustration with the poor work ethic and moral standards of the other journalism majors, whereas I always thought those two qualities were course prerequisites considering today’s media.
After obtaining his journalism degree he moved off to the state of New York when his girlfriend was accepted into law school up there. He did manage to get a job at a newspaper, though the few stories I’ve heard about his work experience over there haven’t been encouraging. I suppose even those “poor work ethic and moral standards” people end up as head editors somewhere.