If the Baroness were to divulge that she once had a cowboy in her life, would her posts be as well read as Miss Ree over at "Confessions of a Pioneer Woman"? Not bloody likely. For the only majestic creatures roaming around my back yard are a handful of fat little chickadees and Ol' Lemonhundt. And I do not feel in the least bit compelled to take pictures of them.
It is the truth, though. The Baroness once had a fellow in her life by the name of David Marshall. And he was a cowboy. Of sorts. David's noble mount was a 10 speed bicycle, and his chaps were not leather, but some sort of flammable synthetic blend. Holstered on his hip, his weapon. From Texas. Texas Instruments, that is. He could fire up that thing in the blink of an eye, at the slightest mathematical provocation. We called him "The Calculator Cowboy", and he moseyed his way through our high school halls with all the swagger and confidence a straight A student could possibly muster.
David, you see, was one of the very few who saw high school as an actual opportunity to be educated. Plain and simple. He appeared, outwardly at least, to have little need for the facetious or the popular. He was there to learn. I actually think that he was probably more intelligent than quite a few of our teachers, and I recall that more than once he was sent out of the class for having rather vocal discussions with our Math teacher over his questionable methodology.
One of my favorite David moments came every day in Socials 10 class, when we were called upon to read a current events article from the paper. Everyone else in the class went for the obvious - the biggest headline, the top news, the broadcast they heard on the radio while blow drying their perfectly feathered hair. Not David. It was clear he had taken his time to find just the right news item. He would go out of his way to find the most obscure article, buried somewhere in the middle of the paper. You know the ones? The fillers that are only about 1/8 of a page wide? Without fail, they rivaled the Weekly World News tabloids for kitsch factor. We learned about strange births. Arcane government studies. Freak accidents. At first, everyone laughed at his selections. They were, to say the least, out of the norm. Kind of like David himself. But a strange phenomenon began to happen. After about a week, we all began to eagerly wait for David to be called upon. Even our teacher Ms. Anderson began to show her appreciation for the off-beat world of the C.C. While none of us realized it at the time, David was giving us the opportunity to actually learn what was happening in the world. In terms that we poor idiots could understand. What a clever little buckaroo.
To this day, out of respect to the Calculator Cowboy, I still read the weird little articles in the deep dark recesses of the paper. Because I think that David was on to something. He saw some uncharted territory that needed attention. Marshalling, if you please.
Yippee ki yay, David Marshall. You were one great high school cowboy.
It is the truth, though. The Baroness once had a fellow in her life by the name of David Marshall. And he was a cowboy. Of sorts. David's noble mount was a 10 speed bicycle, and his chaps were not leather, but some sort of flammable synthetic blend. Holstered on his hip, his weapon. From Texas. Texas Instruments, that is. He could fire up that thing in the blink of an eye, at the slightest mathematical provocation. We called him "The Calculator Cowboy", and he moseyed his way through our high school halls with all the swagger and confidence a straight A student could possibly muster.
David, you see, was one of the very few who saw high school as an actual opportunity to be educated. Plain and simple. He appeared, outwardly at least, to have little need for the facetious or the popular. He was there to learn. I actually think that he was probably more intelligent than quite a few of our teachers, and I recall that more than once he was sent out of the class for having rather vocal discussions with our Math teacher over his questionable methodology.
One of my favorite David moments came every day in Socials 10 class, when we were called upon to read a current events article from the paper. Everyone else in the class went for the obvious - the biggest headline, the top news, the broadcast they heard on the radio while blow drying their perfectly feathered hair. Not David. It was clear he had taken his time to find just the right news item. He would go out of his way to find the most obscure article, buried somewhere in the middle of the paper. You know the ones? The fillers that are only about 1/8 of a page wide? Without fail, they rivaled the Weekly World News tabloids for kitsch factor. We learned about strange births. Arcane government studies. Freak accidents. At first, everyone laughed at his selections. They were, to say the least, out of the norm. Kind of like David himself. But a strange phenomenon began to happen. After about a week, we all began to eagerly wait for David to be called upon. Even our teacher Ms. Anderson began to show her appreciation for the off-beat world of the C.C. While none of us realized it at the time, David was giving us the opportunity to actually learn what was happening in the world. In terms that we poor idiots could understand. What a clever little buckaroo.
To this day, out of respect to the Calculator Cowboy, I still read the weird little articles in the deep dark recesses of the paper. Because I think that David was on to something. He saw some uncharted territory that needed attention. Marshalling, if you please.
Yippee ki yay, David Marshall. You were one great high school cowboy.
1 comment:
I wish I had found you sooner. I my lord I am laughing and laughing. I might just roll and clutch myself while I laugh. I am looking forward to you next post much like you looked forward to the C.C.'s news stories.
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