Minimalist Theater

In a previous post, I wrote about my role in A Comedy of Errors my junior year and how we had to import female students from other schools for the female roles. Now that I think of it, if we really wanted to be Elizabethan about it, we should have just had male cadets dress up like girls. That would be a most interesting debate for the drama coach to have with the administration!

I imagine it will be much easier to get students to participate in theater now that there are girl cadets. Not only because I think girls might be more interested than your typical teenage boy but because teenage boys tend to be interested in participating in activities teenage girls are interested in. Or, at least, the teenage girls can be used as an excuse to allow themselves to profess a legitimate interest in those activities.

The next semester the director chose to do The Odd Couple based solely around me which was quite flattering. The interim superintendent, Father Ghallager, wanted to do Dracula for the same reason which was also pretty cool). As much as I wanted to do theater, I had to choose the Track team instead. I’m pretty sure the reason was I would have missed track meets because of rehearsal which would mean
and had to do intramural sports instead of being on a team which, though still not my preferred way to spend all that time, was infinitely better than the hell that this pseudo-gym class would have been. It’s so odd that they don’t allow push-ups as punishment now and – when I was there – a daily morning calisthenics program was canceled when kids complained to their parents who then complained to the school that their delicate little darlings were enduring such torture … and yet … they have this hellish intramural business.

Neither play had any budget, but The Odd Couple did have a set which was a vast improvement over A Comedy of Errors which didn’t have any. On my last visit to Howe, I looked dreamily around Bouton Auditorium wishing I could donate thousands to give them a state of the art lighting and sound system. Yes, I’ll add that do my list of things I’ll do when I donate my other millions of dollars.

All of this is on my mind because I’m very, very excited about the new ESL master who will also be involved in Howe’s drama programs – the legendary Kevin Beuret.

Specific Music Memories

There are many songs and bands that bring back specific Howe Military School memories. What might be my soundtrack for a movie about me at Howe.

8th Grade (82/83) – I remember hearing Stevie Nicks (I think Forbes-Watkins and Flesch had those cassettes from Columbia House) and Joan Jett for the first time. Wasn’t very impressed with Stevie Nicks (until years later). I remember some kids being very into Ted Nugent (the bossy little runt and … what was his name … Seymour) who I also wouldn’t appreciate until later. If you owned an electric guitar, like I did, there were these kids who would insist on asking to play “Iron Man” by Black Sabbath or “Smoke On the Water” by Deep Purplebut I didn’t like either of those bands either. These jerks had rank and were, generally, bigger than the kids who actually played and owned the guitars so they would blow out the amps, etc. with no consequences. For me, what I remember listening to (don’t laugh) was Arlo Guthrie, the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack, and, oh … wait … I now do have memories of listening to Alice Cooper Goes To Hell, because instant, sweetened, iced tea always makes me think of that album. Or is it vice-versa? Also, I was introduced to Blondie and Elton Johnthat year. Again, either Forbes-Watkins or Flesch gave me Jump Up by Elton John and Hot Space by Queen – both of which are still two of my favorite albums.

Summer Camp (Summer of 1985) - Vivid memories of listening to We Sold Our Soul For Rock and Roll by Black Sabbath, an album or two by Venom, and to this day I can’t hear “Hotel California” by Eagles without thinking it’s about the Church of Satan because of all the conversations we had about it. Can you tell where I was spiritually at that point in my life? On a somewhat lighter note, I bought 2-3 albums by Lou Reed that summer – old stuff in the bargain bin like Street Hassle, Rock and Roll Heart and The Bells.

11th Grade (85/86) – Though I was mostly into the Doors, Twisted Sister’s Come Out And Play album was high on my rotation list (as were their other albums). I can still remember getting The Last Command by W.A.S.P.at Kmart and listening to it with my walk-man while I waited for the bus to come pick us up. Doug Knowlton introduced me to the Sex Pistols, Psychadelic Furs, and the Ramones.

Sometime in 1986 I fell in love with Lizzie Borden via their live album, The Murderess Metal Road Show, quickly followed by Menace to Society which I may have bought my senior year along with Me Against the World.

12th Grade (86/87) - Inside the Electric Circus by W.A.S.P. was a big moment for me that year, but mostly I remember getting a lot of Little Richard. Billy Idol’s amazing Whiplash Smile album also came out my senior year. This was also the first time I heard Bob Dylan and I was hooked. The most important album that year for me, though, was Blah Blah Blah by Iggy Pop. My first roomie in Echo company – also a teammate on the Cross Country (or was it Track?) team – got me into Ministry, Depeche Mode and the Pet Shop Boys. My second Echo roomie brought a brand new tape back to school with him after visiting home and while I was trying to decide whether I thought the girls were kinda hot or not, he said these guys called Poison really rocked. And they did – at least for that first album, Look What the Cat Dragged In. 

Meet the New Boss

I can remember the first time I walked up to Echo Company as the new lieutenant. I was nervous and happy. My second in command guy really wanted me to give a hardcore speech to show them I was going to be tough and expect a lot of them, blah blah … he apparently thought they were slackers. I think I even gave them a stupid speech like that. I don’t know why that suddenly fills me with regret 22 years later. It certainly would be interesting to go back and try some experiments based on what I’ve studied of Management, Leadership, Organizational Development, etc.

Hmm…

In Delta, I felt very much a loner. I remember staying in my room a lot listening to music, reading, studying, cleaning … I became a much more social animal in Echo. Neither in my junior nor senior years did I feel like I was liked or accepted in Delta. Everytime I think of a reason for these feelings, I come up with reasons those feelings are stupid.

I definitely want to think a lot more about this.

Even Cooler Than a Stereo In A Footlocker

Walking down the 2nd floor hallway of Delta Company, I heard the unmistakable, glorious voice of Arthur Penhallow. For anyone who grew up in the Detroit area, his voice is instantly recognizable. In 1986, he’d been the afternoon drive-time DJ of AOR radio station WRIF for fifteen years. In 2008, he still holds that time slot. If you’ve seen the movie The Upside of Anger, you’ve seen him – he plays himself (wow, that almost sounded dirty). I think WRIF is only one of 2-3 Detroit stations that haven’t changed formats at least once in my lifetime. All the stations that popped up to imitate it are gone.

I walked into ________’s room and asked if he was listening to a recording. I didn’t believe him when he said he was just listening to it on the radio. He then showed me the cable leading out his window to the roof where he had a small, but very powerful, antenna that could get signals from Detroit. I couldn’t have been more envious. WRIF was a slice of home. At home it was a way of life. I met Arthur P at a Taco Plaza when he was distributing the new gold, hard plastic D.R.E.A.D. cards which replaced the old paper ones. DREAD was an organization any true rocker was a member of: Detroit Rockers Engaged in the Abolition of Disco. He autographed my old paper one.

He has a deep, booming voice and cars around the motor city bear bumper stickers with his catch phrases. I was little when I met him and he was this giant biker who was – even not taking his size into consideration – a god to me (and thousands of other young boys).

Thunder clapping, bells tolling

I can remember the first time the idea of me getting promoted was spoken within my earshot. At the beginning of my junior year, either my platoon or the whole company was standing out in front of Delta’s dorm. Our … not our platoon leader – that would have been a senior and an officer – but the “enlisted” second-in-command of our platoon, a junior … was really ripping into the squad leaders for something. The way we marched, squad duties, the condition of squad members’ rooms … something.

And suddenly he busted out with, “I know a junior who’s doing better than all of you and I can just as easily replace one of you with him!” There was only one person that could be. Not (just) because I was so great, but because I was a new cadet (I’d been gone for two years and was in lower school last time I was on campus so almost nobody even knew my name) I was the only junior who didn’t have a position and my room was spotless, I was born to shine shoes, my grades were always hot, etc.

It was an off-hand comment, more meant as a warning than anything … but it was also a warning to me of things to come.

The more I did well and excelled at the things that mattered: no discipline problems, clean & orderly room, great grades … the more stripes I got. Eventually, for a reason I can’t remember, I turned it in.

The only time I regretted that was at some military summer camp that would have been a lot more fun if I didn’t have to do things like wash dishes and perform other mind-numbing, time-killing tasks because I wasn’t an NCO or officer.

Old Guard Pond

Old Guard pond is the hour-glass shaped pond shown in the previous post. I love the “Off Limits” sign shown below – very Winnie the Pooh. I wonder exactly what is off limits? Swimming, of course – no one dared when I attended (not for recreation anyway). Walking across the bridge? Sitting by the water?

It is bottomless. I know this because when I was “fishing” using a stick, some string, and a frog as bait, it seemed more creatures rose to the near surface from its depths than I would have thought a small pond could hold. So many it actually scared me. This must have been after I fell in it. I don’t think I would have risked falling in had I known Cthulu himself lived in the darkness below. Seriously, just look at the tree across the pond – it looks straight out of a haunted forest as if it’s just waiting for some unsuspecting cadet to be walking across the campus some night to grab him or her and hold them under the water until they die or some monster reaches up and pulls them under.

You can see the Masters’ houses in the background. I loved just sitting by the water. It wasn’t exactly a popular spot – perhaps that’s what made it nice & peaceful. Like many other spots on campus, I could sit there for hours and imagine the people & ghosts from a century before walking around, wondering what they talked and thought about.

On the wish list for Howe Military School, you’ll find a fountain you can purchase if you have a spare $8,000. That would look nice, wouldn’t it? I wonder if I’d like that change in the atmosphere – adding something modern like that. It would be great for the overall look of the campus from everywhere within eyeshot and I’m only there once every few years anyway so, you know, do whatever you want with your $8,000.

During the try-outs for Rangers, a rope connected trees on either side of the pond and Ranger-hopefuls had to cross the rope. Easy enough. Until current Ranger(s) told you to let go. Ew – but then that was the point. I made it through all the tryouts until the very last bit … get up on a Saturday morning and do the minimum pushups, run a mile or few, etc.

Getting up in the morning has never been my strong point and I missed my chance to get a black beret. I was very sad during the parade where the new Rangers got theirs. Still am.

Abuses of Power

Preface: If you’re afraid of sending your child to a military school for fear of “hazing,” the following tales of silliness are examples of how mild such things are at Howe.

I met Doug Knowlton the first day of my junior year at Howe, after I’d been gone two years. He was walking by my room and saw, in a box, my black leather jacket with the studs on the collar (I’m proud to say I did that myself – Rob Halford of Judas Priest was my style role model then). Doug’s hero was Sid Vicious of the Sex Pistols so he immediately wanted to meet whoever this new guy was with the good taste.

We quickly became best friends but, as best friends sometimes do, we really didn’t like each other sometimes.

Once, he walked into my room either because he was bored or just felt like being a jerk. Let me explain. If an officer walks into a room, everyone has to stand at attention until the officer says “at ease” or “as you were” or “sit down.” Doug was, as I said, my best friend so formalities like this weren’t observed. Except this time, apparently.

It took him a minute to convince me he really was serious that I need to stand up and that he really would write me up if I didn’t. I stood up.

Doug walked back out of the room. I sat down.

He walked back in. And so it began. I stood up, etc. until he was bored of walking in and out of my room.

They say that abused people abuse people.

The following year, there was this kid I kind of took under my wing and mentored and looked after. Until, one day, I was bored and felt like being a jerk. I made him lie in front of my door and told anyone walking in to wipe their feet on the mat. Looking back, that wasn’t very cool and I think that’s in my short list of things I’ve done that I’m ashamed of.

When I moved to Echo Company as an officer, I roomed with my … let’s see, if I was platoon leader, he would have been my … second in command guy … I can’t believe that I don’t remember his name or anyone else’s apparently …

We started off as friends. Very good friends. Eventually, we hated each other. More on that relationship later. During one of our fights, I took a roll of colored tape and divided the room in half. His desk on one side, mine on the other. Unfortunately for him, the bunk beds were on my side.

“You can’t do this!” he yelled.

“I can do whatever I want. I’m an officer – seargant.”

“How am I supposed to get into bed?”

“Jump. From your side of the room into the bed. Dont’ touch my side of the floor when you do it, either.”

“I can’t – I’m in the top bunk!”

Ah, yes, good times. The following are pix of my room in Echo company which I shared with two different people. Eventually, my first roommate (mentioned above) moved out and I got a new one. I think his name was Doug Witherow. I might have spoken to him once since then.

Remember in The Shawshank Redemption when Brooks carves his name into the beam he’ll later hang himself from? There are the names of previous occupants on that beam, too. At Howe, the unspoken, unwritten tradition was to leave your mark in one (or both) of two places: the beams above your bed if you’re in the bottom bunk and/or in the tiny hymnals in chapel. I had the bottom bunk.

This was my desk. Because I was such a rebel against any authority or establishment, I had a USSR flag above it. No one ever mentioned it which really irritated me.

House Music

“John” was in his room listening, loudly, to a form of music I’d never heard of. “House” music. This was the first time I tried getting someone to explain why something was called what it was. Is it only listened to in houses? This was a legitimate question to me. He’s got the lights turned off except for dim lamp – I don’t think it was a lava lamp, but that’s what the atmosphere felt like. He was just in his room dancing. By himself. It looked like fun so this awkward 16-year-old white boy gave it a try. After some sad attempts at mimicking his moves, I left and found something else to do.

Huffing At Howe

One evening as I sat at my desk, studying like the young gentleman and scholar I was, Doug Knowlton staggered into my room propping himself up in the doorway and sucking on a sock. I thought he was pretending to be drunk. He could barely stand and … he was sucking on a sock.

I will not tell you what he was inhaling. I will say, though, he convinced me to try it (with my own sock – not his) and the experience was singular and memorable – especially while listening to “The Ghost In You” by the Psychedelic Furs. What’s especially interesting is that, for best results, you had to use a certain type of sock and a certain brand of this product.

It’s all fun and games until someone gets hurt.

The next year, someone brought in a different product and it didn’t take long for people to discover it, too, had a mind-altering effect. This one started off pleasantly enough but quickly turned bad. There is no scene in Requiem for a Dream disturbing enough that I could compare it to the horror I couldn’t snap out of for far too long. Nightmarish. And I was one of the lucky ones. At least a couple kids ended up in the hospital and I never found out what happened to them other than something pretty nasty with their lungs.

It was like having a nightmare when I was awake. I really felt I was like The Incredible Shrinking Man and was being sucked into the molecular structure of the door and the doorknob. I kept thinking I was merely a particle in a particle in a particle that was part of a universe that was a particle in another universe and was … so … small. It was the ultimate in paranoia and helplessness.

At a recent gig, I was mounting a poster onto some foam with a spray adhesive. The girl who was helping me turned on the ventilator and pointed to an old filter sitting on the counter. It looked like Magic Rocks but it was all white and sticky. “That’s what your lungs look like if you inhale this stuff,” she said. I thought of those kids 20 years earlier and felt very glad that was my last time doing anything so stupid.

The infirmary now has the poster below in the lobby and I would warn anyone to avoid it. If you think you feel out of control while smoking weed, that’s nothing compared to this idiocy.

A Terrifying, Stupid Mistake

I have been avoiding this subject (drugs & alcohol) for some time. I am scared of two things:

1. That I will never be offered a teaching job at Howe after divulging this information and
2. That some parent(s) might read these stories and be hesitant to send their child(ren) to Howe.

I don’t remember how pre-meditated this episode was. The first thing I remember is sitting in in Geometry class, pulling my toothpaste and toothbrush from my bookbag and loudly brushing my teeth. This may not have been the first thing I did even that day in Geometry class – for whatever reason, I delighted in tormenting this poor woman by acting up. I don’t know why – she was a perfectly nice teacher. I think she was just so … nice … and easily rattled. Exactly the type who seemed easy prey to a predatory practical jokester like myself. So here I am brushing my teeth and she tells me to spit it out. So I did. In my geometry book, slamming it shut so my saliva and toothpaste splattered nicely with wonderful results all over the people around me.

I got sent to the office. I don’t remember whose office. I don’t think I would have continued with this nonsense if Mr. Piper or Mr. Malerich were sitting across from me. We still had corporal punishment then and neither were afraid to use the paddles that hung behind their desks (one of many reasons Dead Poets Society reminds me of Howe). Sadly, I can’t remember exactly what I did beyond giving really goofy answers to every question. Pseudo-philosophical/psychological crap to amuse myself. I think a second administrator was brought in – the school chaplain, Fr. Morgan. It was decided I would be driven to the local doctor’s office for a urine/drug test.

While there, I continued my shenanigans, taunting the poor staff with questions like “Hey, you want some more?!” and “How about some blood, too?!” Maturity wasn’t my strong point that day. What were they going to do? Send me home? For acting goofy? No. I didn’t do drugs so I wasn’t worried. I’d smoked weed a couple times but that was a year or two earlier, and it was long gone out of my system.

I had a very bad habit of going just a bit too far, sometimes. Quitting while I was ahead wasn’t something I had a good grasp on. If all this tomfoolery wasn’t stupid, what I did next certainly was.

That night after “lights out,” I walked into the room of a friend, we’ll call him John. John was the son of a very rich publisher. You’ve seen the magazine his family owned on many newstands and celebrities – nay, legends – were family friends. The musical tastes in Delta Company in 85/86 ran toward the hippy and psychadelic. We were about 10-20 years behind the times. I think that has something to do with not being in the “real world” with kids who were living the lives portrayed in John Hughes’ movies. Some Cream record was playing, I’m going to guess it was Disraeli Gears. John and my best friend Doug Knowlton were smoking some weed John grew in the basement of the dorm that eventually got him kicked out.

A towel was rolled up to block the bottom of the door and they were exhaling into another towel. I didn’t see any reason not to participate because my first couple tries with weed were great (later experiences soon after were horrific and stopped that bad habit very quickly – I was scared off long before anyone could ever call me a pothead) and it’s not like the school would make me take another drug test, right? Wrong.

The following day, I was called out of class and into Colonel Trout’s office. He held his phone out to me and said my mother wanted to speak with me. This wasn’t good. You know what a “howler” in Harry Potter is? That was my mother’s primary form of communication. She told me the school told her I refused to take a blood test and while I was protesting this and she was calling me a liar and the whole thing was going quite badly I realized … they want blood. Now. Yesterday that would have been fine – that’s why I volunteered to give it. Today it would be fatal. I don’t think I’ve ever been that scared in my life.

Needless to say, I didn’t even think about touching that crap until after I graduated. And, as I mentioned earlier, the experience was a total paranoid, bad-trip, I’m surprised I didn’t jump out a window waking nightmare that … I’ve never touched it since. As for that experience in John’s room, let’s just say that marijuana grown in the damp concrete of Delta company’s basement doesn’t do much to you either way.

My Leading Lady

In the school year of 1985/86, the Political Science teacher, Mr. Vogelsang, directed William Shakespeare’s A Comedy of Errors. I had one of the leads, Antipholus of Syracuse, but I didn’t win the medal for best actor and I must confess I am still rather irritated by that. At the time, there were very strict rules absolutely forbidding any civilian clothing – even onstage for a play – so we wore our official “Howe civvies” or whatever they were called. Basically a prep school uniform with a school crest on a sport jacket. We also weren’t allowed to use swords so used baseball bats instead. I don’t think we had sets, either, but I might just not remember any.

What I do remember is the young lady who played Luciana. At the time, there were a couple girl day students and this was a friend of theirs, I think. I’d never seen her before. She was beautiful. Below is what i considered our “big scene” together. Like many other of Shakespeare’s plays, this one features twins and mistaken identity. I played Antipholus of Syracuse, a man seperated at birth from his twin brother who was sent to Ephesus and is also called Syracuse. I meet his sister-in-law and fall madly in love. I’ve just declared this love to Luciana, who thinks I am her brother-in-law.

SCENE 2

[Enter LUCIANA with ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE.]

LUCIANA.
And may it be that you have quite forgot
A husband’s office? Shall, Antipholus,
Even in the spring of love, thy love-springs rot?
Shall love, in building, grow so ruinate?
If you did wed my sister for her wealth,
Then for her wealth’s sake use her with more kindness;
Or, if you like elsewhere, do it by stealth;
Muffle your false love with some show of blindness;
Let not my sister read it in your eye;
Be not thy tongue thy own shame’s orator;
Look sweet, speak fair, become disloyalty;
Apparel vice like virtue’s harbinger;
Bear a fair presence though your heart be tainted;
Teach sin the carriage of a holy saint;
Be secret-false: what need she be acquainted?
What simple thief brags of his own attaint?
‘Tis double wrong, to truant with your bed
And let her read it in thy looks at board:–
Shame hath a bastard fame, well managed;
Ill deeds is doubled with an evil word.
Alas, poor women! make us but believe,
Being compact of credit, that you love us:
Though others have the arm, show us the sleeve;
We in your motion turn, and you may move us.
Then, gentle brother, get you in again;
Comfort my sister, cheer her, call her wife:
‘Tis holy sport to be a little vain
When the sweet breath of flattery conquers strife.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE.
Sweet mistress,–what your name is else, I know not,
Nor by what wonder you do hit on mine,–
Less, in your knowledge and your grace, you show not
Than our earth’s wonder: more than earth divine.
Teach me, dear creature, how to think and speak;
Lay open to my earthy gross conceit,
Smother’d in errors, feeble, shallow, weak,
The folded meaning of your words’ deceit.
Against my soul’s pure truth why labour you
To make it wander in an unknown field?
Are you a god? would you create me new?
Transform me, then, and to your power I’ll yield.
But if that I am I, then well I know
Your weeping sister is no wife of mine,
Nor to her bed no homage do I owe:
Far more, far more, to you do I decline.
O, train me not, sweet mermaid, with thy note,
To drown me in thy sister’s flood of tears:
Sing, siren, for thyself, and I will dote;
Spread o’er the silver waves thy golden hairs,
And as a bed I’ll take thee, and there lie;
And, in that glorious supposition, think
He gains by death that hath such means to die:–
Let love, being light, be drowned if she sink!

LUCIANA.
What, are you mad, that you do reason so?

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE.
Not mad, but mated; how, I do not know.

LUCIANA.
It is a fault that springeth from your eye.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE.
For gazing on your beams, fair sun, being by.

LUCIANA.
Gaze where you should, and that will clear your sight.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE.
As good to wink, sweet love, as look on night.

LUCIANA.
Why call you me love? call my sister so.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE.
Thy sister’s sister.

LUCIANA.
That’s my sister.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE.
No;
It is thyself, mine own self’s better part;
Mine eye’s clear eye, my dear heart’s dearer heart;
My food, my fortune, and my sweet hope’s aim,
My sole earth’s heaven, and my heaven’s claim.

LUCIANA.
All this my sister is, or else should be.

ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE.
Call thyself sister, sweet, for I aim thee;
Thee will I love, and with thee lead my life:
Thou hast no husband yet, nor I no wife;
Give me thy hand.

LUCIANA.
O, soft, sir, hold you still;
I’ll fetch my sister to get her good-will.

[Exit LUCIANA.]

=========================================

As I implied, I had a huge crush on this beautiful young woman and those feelings helped my delivery in all these lines.

Tae Kwon Do

For one semester, a local presbyterian minister taught Tae Kwon Do on campus. It started out with three cadets, I think, and by the end of it there was just me. I’d waited my whole life to take martial arts classes and loved it. It was held in the wrestling loft of the gymnasium … oh, by the way … the gymnasium roof is in very sad shape. It will cost $50,000 to fix it and it would be great if you could donate even $5 or $10 (or more) to the Raise the Roof fund. Seriously, if any school is worth helping out, it is Howe Military School and over time I promise I will tell you all the great experiences that I had in that gymnasium and I am only one cadet from over 125 years or so of cadets to be blessed, edified, educated, challenged and nurtured there.

Really, even if it’s just a buck, please give something. Go here:

Buy your piece of the roof today (I think you get a square foot with your name on it for every $10) by making a contribution online at http://www.howemilitary.com/donations.htm (in the “*Restricted/Unrestricted Donation?” box, type “Raise the Roof”). That just tells the school what to use your money for. You’ll be taken to a PayPal page where you actually give the money. Thank you.

You can also send your check marked “Raise the Roof” to Paula Meade, Development Office, Howe Military School, PO Box 240, Howe, IN 46746.

There is also a Wish List at amazon.com for the Howe Military School library. The list is old but I’m sure they could still use everything on it.

This one time, in Tae Kwon Do, a bunch of cadets came into the gym and started making … I guess you’d call them stereotypical “karate sounds” like the Bruce Lee high-pitched thing … and this instructor/pastor walked to the ledge and looked out into the gymnasium, all three tons of him with his bald head and goatee and said, “Would you like to join us?”

They stammered no and stuff and left. I was so proud.

Note to parents and children: If you want to compete and get some exercise, Tae Kwon Do is your choice. If you want to be able to fight, defend, survive, etc. it should be your last choice.

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.

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.

Just Say No

Nancy Reagan was still First Lady.

There was a brief period when marijuana use seemed to be pretty rampant but the administration took some serious action and it ended fairly quickly. There were drug tests and dismissals.

Colonel Merritt, the brand-spankin’ new superintendent whose arrival on campus was … seen, heard and felt with a great deal of shock and awe touched every area of our lives. It ended a period of great turmoil and confusion in the life and soul of the campus. His recent death saddened me a great deal. Especially since the schools heart and soul seem to have shriveled and blackened since then.

Posters

After much lobbying on behalf of a very small group of students, Colonel Merritt granted us permission to hang one poster in our room. The students appealed to him with things like motivational and inspirational posters. I think those two students actually did hang up something like “soar high” or whatever but most of us put up girls and rock stars.

There was this hard core group of rockers in Delta company that were into AOR from the 60’s and 70’s – Led Zeppelin in particular. Our company commander had a huge Zeppelin tapestry on his dorm room wall. He was, I think, from the Detroit area so he may have gotten it from the same head shop I got my gigantic Ted Nugent poster that took up just about every square inch from floor to ceiling.

My Nugent wallpaper didn’t impress our tactical officer but it was “one” poster, so it got to stay.

This same company commander installed an extremely powerful antenna on the roof of the dorm so he could get WRIF, the major Detroit rock station for the last century, which was over 160 miles away.

I certainly wasn’t part of this clique of rockers. Not only were they seniors but they were far, far cooler than I. How quickly things change, though. These seniors quoted Led Zeppelin in their yearbook and others got high in their rooms listening to Cream but the next year when I mentioned Led Zeppelin, I was told “Zeppelin is for losers like [name removed to protect the innocent].”

Humility and Passion

I think his name was Jeff Schillinger, a graduate of Wayne State University. He was my history teacher. This was my first time back at Howe Military School after two years of exile in public school hell. My mother had asked me after two years of misery if I wanted to return to Howe. I gave an enthusiastic yes.

After the first six-week grading period I was struggling to maintain a D in history. Many teachers, I think, wouldn’t have cared and just written me off. Schillinger, however, did some research.

When parent-teacher conferences came around he said to my parents, “Your son is getting As and Bs in all his other classes. Can you tell me what it is I might be doing wrong?”

Great question. Rather hard on himself but I wish more teachers were.

Some teachers are great and you still don’t learn anything. Some teachers are horrible at teaching but you love them so you try harder and you manage to perform well. As for me and history, I just have a particular learning style when it comes to that subject and I didn’t find teachers who matched it until college.

When I found history teachers who were storytellers at Washtenaw Community College and Hillsdale College I finally got it. The way most history teachers “teach” is like this:

“On December 7, 1941 Pearl Harbor was bombed. You will be tested on this. “

A different way to teach World War 2, for example, would be to explain what was happening and why the bombing of Pearl Harbor was significant so it has a point of reference and some context. Also, a little action and romance never hurt. WCC and Hillsdale had profs who knew that. Explain, history teachers, that Germany got their ass kicked in WWI so they were kind of bitter and made the Jews scapegoats. Explain that the USA was going through a depression as well and need a reason to enter the war that everyone else wished they could stay out of as well.

I don’t remember a single thing Schillinger discussed concerning history. I couldn’t even tell you if it was American or World History or Western Civ. I do remember it was obvious he cared about his students and he treated us well. With respect. He was approachable and responsive. A good guy.

He lived in an apartment above the wood/metal shop building with his wife.

Eric Colville: THE Hero In Education

Eric Colville recently died. One of the great regrets of my life is never writing him that letter telling him what an incredible teacher and influence in my life he was.

Major Colville was a major in Her Majesty’s army decades before I was born and taught both Latin and English at Howe Military School.

For those of you who were never in his class, I am sorry. For those of you so close that you attended Howe and were so far that you did not get to be in his class(es) … I am deeply, truly sorry.

I can still remember the first day of Latin … “Latin is not a dead language” he began in his thick British accent.

His sense of humor, his dignity, the tears that would well up in his eyes for the students he loved and the compassionate smile he had even for those he couldn’t stand … will always be remembered.

Pleased to meet you, Mr. Thompson

The first time I heard the name Hunter S. Thompson was in history class. A fellow cadet was reading – and absolutely loving – Fear and Loathing In Las Vegas. He’d checked it out of an exclusive section of the library only certain students had access to. I wasn’t one of those students. I think it was called something like The Bill Hicks Collection and you had to be involved in – this is a guess – Forensics to have access to it.