The original plan for this week's Gentleman's Time was slightly altered as a result of the natural disasters of the weekend. Originally, Brenda Schmit, the staff manager of the Coop Store, Fountain and beleaguered Smith Campus Center Game Room, and I were going to enjoy an afternoon cocktail and cigarette in her quiet north Claremont backyard, with the imposing San Gabriels looming above us. This was especially appealing to this gentleman, in that Toddy Time is a tradition hard to come by amidst the busy life between academia and the newspaper.

The imposing San Gabriels however were subject to the inferno of this weekend, causing a change in our plans. We decided to take a brief walking tour before settling down for our previously scheduled Toddy Time. Ms. Schmit and I went for a walk along Thompson Creek in northern Claremont. The creek appears as the divide between heaven and hell: on one side is a beautiful Claremont neighborhood, replete with the flora and fauna of our paradise; on the other was the scorched earth of the Grand Prix freistorm. Ms. Schmit explained how they watched the fire approach her street in a very calm and at times even humorous tone.

Ms. Schmit has a laid back air about her that probably infiltrates everyone around her; I felt immediately at ease talking with her as if she were an old friend. While some would attribute this to her Californian upbringing, upon compare to other Californian women of her age, I maintain that she is especially relaxed and informal in that way you wish all of your friends were: tactful but honest, casual yet meaningful.

After checking out a few burn sites, we returned to her home where I met her parents and her dog, Petunia. All three were elderly and friendly, but only her parents were former employees of Pomona College (and avid readers of the paper, they claimed). Ms. Schmit moved back to her parent's home after her father had health complications.

We proceeded to the back yard for our cocktails, glasses of Ms. Schmit's favorites—"seven and sevens." It is rumored that Ms. Schmit will even travel with a bottle of each to ensure fun will be had at any locale. While I had no reason to doubt the rumor, it was doubtful that Ms. Schmit was ever not enjoying herself, no matter where. I'm not certain which we did more of, talking or laughing, but the conversation was lively, to say the least.

One of the first things Ms. Schmit said to me was that she enjoyed working at the Coop, which she has done for a decade now, because of the students. I would assume that the students feel the same way about Ms. Schmit, especially from the plethora of travel stories that included visiting old managers of the Coop Store. Travelling is Ms. Schmit's first love, she almost guiltily admitted to me. She happily recounted all of the places she had lived right out of college, "you know, just long enough to see the four seasons."

While most of the previous Gentleman's Time's subjects have been more nervous or more formal with question and answer, Ms. Schmit and I engaged in a wonderful warfare of family anecdotes, drinking stories, and (most entertaining) tidbits exchanged about our mutual friends. I felt very comfortable talking with someone about how her family had enjoyed a confrontation with the Etiwanda fire and sheriff's department's over a fireworks violation. Even more entertaining were the details leading up to the extravaganza: most notably Thanksgiving would be the best time to do fireworks since no one would expect it and that separate family members made separate trips to Mexico for firework purchase. Ms. Schmit could easily blend in at any one of my family events, and that puts her in a small but distinguished list of people with laid back attitudes, loud mouths, big stomachs, and embattled livers.

As the sun sank behind the hills, the house and yard were sheathed in blackness. Potentially because of the lucky "sevens" in her glass, the Schmit home will only be blackened by the shadows of endless diurnal motion, not encroaching wildfires. Ms. Schmit had handled the evacuation like a pro, as she had done the other few times in the past when evacuating from her home in various Southern Californian locales. "We brought the dog and bird, but couldn't find the cat," Ms. Schmit laughed. Nonchalantly trusting that the house will remain with the safe cat inside personifies this woman. Rarely have I met a person as easy going as myself, but Ms. Schmit was one of the few. Toddy Time was had, jokes were told, and a new friend was made.