Alien In the City

Alien In the City

As I walked the streets of Philadelphia Center City, I was totally absorbed in people watching.  At least I think they were people, but the might have been aliens from another planet, with their strange garb, their unkempt facial hair, and their tattoos and piercings.

I had the feeling of invisibility, as no one looked at me.  Did that mean that I was indistinctive?  Or, were people just skilled in hiding their gaze.  I felt like shouting “Hey, acknowledge my existence”.

But then I realized why city folk tend to look strange,  they too want to stand out in the faceless crowd.  But even when looking strange they tend to look the same.

I stopped one of the creatures to ask directions to the SEPTA station.  He replied “You want 16th Street, that will take you to the suburbs.”   At that point I realized that I was the alien, not them.  I, being clean shaven, with unadorned orifices and pleated pants was the foreigner.

A-Jerk-Is-A-Jerk

A Jerk Is A Jerk

In high school, as a mediocre junior, I had the world’s worst instructor for English Composition.  He was a total jerk, Mr. Rosencranz was.

He had a strong German accent and was the ultimate Prussian autocrat.  He was authoritarian, humorless, and strict.

He forced everyone in his class to enter a writing contest sponsored by the Detroit News.  He didn’t respect our right of free choice or our individual preferences, we HAD to do it, and do it HIS way.

“His way” meant writing longhand in ink.  No erasures were allowed.  If you made a mistake, then you had to re-write the entire page all over again, from scratch.  How stupid was that?

And, of course, we students could not even THINK about talking in class.  I seriously considered reporting his abuse to the principal.  I had never disliked a person so much.

Apparently, Mr. Rosencranz never heard the axiom about leading a horse to water, for he not only dragged me to the well of writing, but he forced me to imbibe against my will.  But he did not force me to like writing, that just happened by itself.

The result of this forced labor was a second prize for me in the contest.  Then, the law of unintended consequences kicked in, and I was later selected to attend Boy’s State Conference at the State Capitol, based on my writing talent

Those two accomplishments (my only two) must have impressed the admission committee  at Wayne University, because they let me in, C-average and all.

After Mr. Rosencranz’s abuse, all other classes seemed easy, and I managed to graduate as an engineer, get a good job, marry a fantastic woman, and live the good life.

Sure, he changed my life, but that doesn’t change the fact that Mr. Rosencranz was still a big jerk