Funny Pictures

I may not have published an underground paper but I did write and draw a comic strip about me and my friends at Howe Military School. I loved to draw but didn’t take it seriously. I would eventually fail an art class my freshman year in high school. Funny that I eventually became a designer and artist.

Kevin Beuret

I have been avoiding writing about Kevin Beuret. He only taught one class at Howe Military School – one summer school English class. But is one member of the holy academic trinity for me. John Pagin and Eric Colville being the other two-thirds.

There is almost too much to say. Pagin and Colville … discussing them is like discussing the walls of a house you’re trying to describe. The pillars of a building you admire.

Mr. Beuret exemplified the greatness many of Howe’s Masters had. No matter what type of child you have … they will find a mentor at Howe. Some teachers reach out to the brilliant ones, the bright stars and … well, they find the young slaves named Anakin and raise them up to be great Jedi Knights. Other teachers will see the diamonds in the rough or simply the pieces of coal and say, “I can make a diamond out of that.” Truly, no child is left behind at Howe Military School.

It’s much like Hogwarts that way. Some students will have a Professor Snape, others their Remus Lupin. I had my Kevin Beuret. Someday soon, I hope and pray, Howe will once again have a Dumbledore… but I digress.

I’ve said before that you get no coddling at Howe. You may get more than your fair share of kicks in the head or rolled eyes. Beuret did none of those. He was as close to Socrates as I think we’ve seen since, well, Socrates. He was and is closer to Qui-Gon Jinn than Yoda and, at least in my opinion, that’s a good thing.

I’m being vague and using broad strokes on purpose. If I try to paint him accurately, I will only fail and my painting will be a grotesque abomination instead of the tribute I would like it to be.

A Midwinter’s Afternoon’s Dream

I had the privilege of being one of three students invited to the home of Major Eric Colville and his beautiful wife for tea. On one particular occasion, it was only me and Mr. & Mrs. Colville. We watched A Midsummer Night’s Dream on television. God, I miss him. The planet is much sorrier place without him. I think if Howe had closed its doors when he left, it would have been like Roy Orbison or Johnny Cash dying at the height of their comebacks – going out on top.

The 2nd or 3rd Master’s house from the bottom-right was the Colville’s. The circled building is the Howe Mansion.

I Became A Christian at Howe Military School

At their wit’s end, my parents sent me to military school for 8th grade. After “graduating” from junior high I took my “graduation” money to the mall and bought a couple Alice Cooper albums and … The Satanic Bible by Anton Szandor LaVey. For a teenage misfit, it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever read. For the next couple years I called myself a Satanist and meant it. I wasn’t just some knucklehead listening to Ozzy Osbourne, I was a deep philosopher and suburban theologian and I knew what I was talking about, mister!

You’d think that my consistently low social status, lack of success with girls, and consistent beatings by bullies that Damien Thorn never had to put up with in Damien: Omen II would have clued me in that Satan didn’t really have my back but I perservered in my “faith.”

When I arrived for Summer Camp/Summer School before my return to Howe as a high school junior, someone got caught with a copy of The Satanic Bible. Yes, it was that common. I’d gotten my copy at a bookstore at the mall and groups like Motley Crue, Slayer, and Venom were all the rage. I entered the discussion and somehow me and this other kid got dragged into the commandant’s office. Colonel William Trout sat behind his desk with all the power a human being could hold. He was feared by everyone. Except me – I had the power of Satan on my side.

Col. Trout asked us what religion we were or something like that. I can’t remember who spoke first but we both said Satanist and we were both prepared to be martyred and burned at the stake (or flagpole) in the center of camp.

“What are you doing here, at a Christian camp?” he asked.

We both gave equally sycophantic answers like “We wanted to be at the best summer camp in the whole universe” or “We wanted the best education” or some crap. Now, Howe Military School may be the best high school in the country but that certainly wasn’t why I said this.

“Get out.” was his response.

The great thing about Howe is whereas many schools will take the B.S. teenagers dish out and try to take it seriously and treat them like thinking adults … Howe knows that all teenagers are suffering from an overdose of hormones and malnutrition of the mind. Teenagers rarely have any self-esteem and grasp at straws like sex and satanism to find their identity and self-worth. You will not get shallow hugs at Howe. At least not when I was there. You got teachers rolling their eyes at you, not giving your drivel the dignity of a response unless it was to correct you with an intelligent retort.

And eventually, you learned from that. You became a confident and authentic young man or woman.

Long story short … I skipped class one day and snuck into the chapel. There’s this life-size wood carving of Jesus writhing on the cross and I had a shouting match with him. Well, I shouted, the woodcarving was still and silent.

But the young officer that was our … cabin leader or whatever … a bit older than the students who were in charge of other cabins … providence? He talked to me. With respect and compassion.

And the camp nurse took my allowance that I trusted him with and got me some books from a local used bookstore. A couple H.P. Lovecraft collections and The Late Great Planet Earth by Hal Lindsey. The latter got me into prophecy which got me into The Bible which eventually introduced me to the real Jesus.

The man who taught one of my summer school classes took me under his wing and called The Satanic Bible “chocolate covered s**t.”

It wasn’t immediate. It wasn’t drastic. It was slow. Ironically, it wasn’t any of the three priests on campus that had any influence over me. But to this day, Howe is holy ground for me. No matter where I smell incense, I am back in St. James Chapel where I stood face to face with Jesus, shook my fists and shouted at him, “If you’re real – where are you?”

He didn’t shout back. His voice is still. And small. But very, very strong. And powerful. And comforting. And embracing. And I think His Presence can overcome the incompetency of any administration. Yeah… I believe that.

Butt Permit

This was a long time ago.

You could buy cigarettes in the Canteen. Well, you could if you had a “butt permit.”

A butt permit was a permission slip from your parents saying you could smoke (if you were of the legal age, of course – which I believe was 16 at the time). Random memory unrelated to Howe: running up to the liquor store for my Mom or one of the other “ladies” in the neighborhood to buy cigarettes for them.

I didn’t smoke but that didn’t matter. I told my Mom I wanted to smoke a pipe like my Dad. Not exactly a lie, smoking a pipe is pretty freaking cool and I actually did. More importantly, a pack of cigarettes was oh, let’s say $1. That’s a nickel a cigarette. Students who didn’t have butt permits were willing to pay at least – I say at least – a quarter a cigarette.

My allowance was an embarrassing $5/week. $5 buys 5 packs of cigarettes. Sell those for a quarter per cigarette and suddenly you have a respectable $25 to spend.

Each dorm had a smoking lounge on the second floor that only students with butt permits were allowed in. My junior year I had a best friend in the senior class. Each morning, he bolted out of bed to make sure he had enough time for a smoke while he woke up.

Sometimes I’d sit in the smoking lounge with my pipe but usually I’d sit on the (very) small hill between Delta company and the Canteen to watch the campus.

Times have changed. Not only are students not allowed to smoke and certainly can’t buy cigarettes in the Canteen but the canteen – last time I visited – won’t even sell soda or chewing gum. Talk about the Pleasure Police!

If Howe Military School wasn’t so rooted in Judeo-Christian values like keeping something as sacred as sex within the hallowed boundaries of marriage, I wouldn’t be surprised if they sold condoms instead of chewing gum, soda, and cigarettes.