Do you know what a good reporter is?
I have said this before. I occasionally (often?) have been accused of being overly serious. And, I have said this before. So what? So, here we go with sort of a continuation of last night's conversation.
Do you know what a good reporter is?
A good reporter is a chameleon.
One day, he is able to walk into the office of a bank president, sit down, and within a matter of minutes make himself appear to be like he is the next-door-neighbor to the bank president, that he is the bank president's best friend and his personal confidant. The reporter wants information, details, so he must instill trust.
The next day, he is able to walk into the home of a drug dealer, sit down, and within a matter of minutes make himself appear to be like he is the next-door-neighbor to the drug dealer, that he is the drug dealer's best friend and his personal confidant. The reporter wants information, details, so he must instill trust.
You get the drift? It is not as easy as I tried to make it sound, but that sort of covers the basics.
I am a good reporter. My object with this piece of prose is not to have you distrust me. It is to stir you to think, to study and to learn about the world and people around you.
The important thing here is not what makes a good reporter, but is for you to learn how to tell the difference between someone who is potentially a good reporter and someone who has genuine affection for you and who wants to learn more about you and who wants to try to learn if there might be an "us" in the future.
I know some of you understand this and could have skipped reading what I have written here; I also know some of you do not understand, but I hope you will come to.
Are you still reading, or did you doze off?
Personally, I have been fooled once. Professionally, once, also, and I am speaking in terms of not recognizing when I was being lied to, but I crucified the liar when the lie was discovered because it was my job at the time and I always attempt to be fully professional at my work.
It is evident most of us hanging around here have been dumped, dropped or at least lied to along the way. It is the same for all of us, I think. A great line, a great face, a great bank account, any or all of those things and more might enter the picture, plus our own vulnerabilities at the time. Maybe, the old "rebound" complex.
Then, too, feelings change, do they not? Love can diminish as surely as it can grow when new truths are discovered or when old lies are uncovered or when betrayals occur.
Call it whatever you want, but I would prefer some people dislike me for what I do say rather than for what I do not say. Another one of Ernest Hemingway's thoughts was this: "Men and women cannot be friends without also becoming lovers." I know that to be incorrect because I have experienced it. I would imagine some of you have, as well. (If not, pick your friends better.)
Wherever this page leads, my foremost hope is that it will leave those of us who are "talking" a bit wiser (I know reading you has taught me) and with feelings of affection toward and concern about each other.
Anything beyond that will be a bonus.
Sometimes coincidence is beyond belief ....
One day I make these statements: "Most were high school teachers looking for credits to use to jump up their salaries. One or two were grad teaching assistants (probably career grad assistants). One among the group was the village idiot, me, who thought the class might be more beneficial to me than an evening bowling or sitting in a bar. It is entirely possible I was the only person there because I actually wanted to be there."
Barely a day later, this falls out of the sky: "As a former teacher who was required to take inane classes for earning a raise, I am sorry I missed your literature class. I surely would have disputed you boat interpretation favoring the notion of a allegorical stock market interpretation."
Required to take "inane classes for earning a raise"?
Never in my life have I encountered anyone, most particularly a retired, career school teacher such as "troutbirder," who would label a class in which the subject matter consists of novels, written by acknowledged masters of the form, to be an "inane" class. The particular novelist I referenced in my commentary, Lawrence Durrell, came within a whisker-width of winning the Nobel Prize for Literature.
There are good teachers and poor ones, with most probably somewhere between. I can understand providing teachers with monetary incentives to increase their knowledge base. What I have never been able to understand is why so many teachers seem to believe their own personal education ends the day the degree is slapped into their hands; why so many whine about being forced to take "inane classes for earning a raise."
The concept of teaching begins with the teacher learning through personal education and experience, not with an evening of bowling or sitting in a bar waiting for the school year to begin.
I repeat: "It is entirely possible I was the only person there because I actually wanted to be there." Very sad, but true. A few days ago, I wrote that ignorance is not bliss. Evidently, for some, it is.
More fun and games ....The blogger named "troutbirder" seemed to think I am among the "pretentious, arrogant, pseudo-intellectual political Luddites."
Pretentious? No, I do not think so. How could "the" direct descendant of Fram the First, conqueror of the Mediterranean, ever be pretentious?
Arrogant? Oh, yes, guilty as charged. That began with high school sports and was greatly encouraged by the Marine Corps. (I think their motto should have been, "Second to None," since that is the cornerstone of their training.) I often have a hard time distinguishing the line between self-confidence and arrogance. At least, I recognize arrogance as a flaw within me, and generally try to keep a lid on it.
Pseudo-intellectual political Luddites? I am not certain how that might be associated with literature, teaching, liberals or conservatives in this context, and really do not care. I suppose that is because I am only a "pseudo." Whoops, here comes old arrogance creeping up on me again, so I will finish with it.
I do have a bachelor of arts degree with a double major in English and history, which I completed in three years instead of the usual four. Had I wanted to attend another summer session, my credits were so abundant that I could have had a bachelor of science degree thrown in, as well. I also do have a master of arts in literature, which I completed by taking classes here and there over a few years, and being a full-time student for the final semester.
I do not consider these degrees to be as important as the fact that I did it all on my own time with my own money, and with neither expectation nor promise of a salary raise. I did it for me as an attempt to become a better, more well-rounded person. Whether or not I am, so what? So, learning is fun.
Music Note: Still listening to classic rock on the radio ....
Getting my money's worth from this machine ....
Playing this instant: "Photograph" by Def Leppard ....
Until a few days ago, I never had noticed how closely I resemble the young man in "The Kiss," the statue by Auguste Rodin, shown on the left. It is almost as though I modeled for him. Remarkably, the same is true with the statue of Hiawatha and Minnehaha, which stands in a park in Minneapolis. The model who posed as Hiawatha could be me. See the resemblance?
