There I was on the first day of my biggest adventure ever. I had been admitted to the University of Texas in Austin. It was 1974.

I had made it to the street which, when any Texan said it, sounded as Wada Loop. In fact, it was Guadalupe Street in Austin, Texas. I asked several people and finally found an enormous building, the School of Communication. It included the School of Journalism, the Department of Speech, and the Department of Radio-Television-Film.

I had an appointment with the Dean of the School of Communication, and I was just on time to make it, but if I was going to make any other appointment or classes, I desperately needed a map of the university.

The first person I found that I thought might be able to provide me with some information about getting a map was a janitor. So I said, “Hello”, and then I asked him where could I find a map of the university. He repeated, “a map?” “Yes,” I said. So he disappeared down a stairs through a lateral door and came back with a “mop”.

I realized that I needed to improve my pronunciation. After all, I had learned English in Georgia.

I thanked the janitor and, with mop in hand, I stepped into the elevator. In that moment, a man hurried up and just in time before the door of the elevator closed, Wayne Danielson, the Dean that I had the appointment with, came into the elevator. That was my introduction.

From that day on Dr. Danielson reminded me the way he met me, with a mop in hand, every time he saw me.