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I was reminded of this incident the other day...not sure what spurred it. But yes, one day, a cheerleader actually saved a human life in my writing class.
Of course, she saved the life from me, so maybe that's a pretty decent qualifier.
Roughly 12 years ago, my first of dozens (literally) of creative writing classes. There was a good cross-section of humanity in the class: Jason, the honest-to-God aspiring writer; Amy, the too-smart-for-her-own-good 16-year-old cheerleader; and Beth, the frumpy future hausfrau (I don't know that for a fact, but there are things you know without having proof of them) among them.
Jason was a hell of a guy. We did the whole tour of undergrad duty together. He wised up and headed elsewhere for grad school. Amy is still one of the -- I'm guessing -- five most brilliant people I've ever met. Of course, she was cursed enough to be born into a less-than-wealthy family in the armpit of America, so her life was and probably is still pain. I think she was a cheerleader simply because it alleviated boredom. Beth, well, I don't know her story, but...well, you'll learn enough about her.
I picked up the campus newspaper and glanced through it only to find a huge story on page 10 about the death of Isaac Asimov. Few people were as inspirational or influential on me in my youth as he was. "Stunned" is not the right word. "Dumbfounded" certainly gets closer. Felt like someone dropped a refrigerator on me. Recoiled. Pointed at the paper. Jason followed up and let fly with a few healthy Anglo-Saxon words of his own, Asimov having had a similar effect on him. Discussion followed amongst the others. None of it registered. Everything was still a red haze and a dull roar except for one line.
"Well, I still think it's more of a shame that Sam Walton died."
And if you could've summarized everything I despised about humanity in one moment, that was it. Beth had no idea, I'm sure, what she said, but something in me just said, a la "WKRP's" Venus Flytrap, "That's it, I'm going to kill you now."
Jason, I think, understood exactly what I was going to do and didn't much care. Amy, for her part, could've stopped a fullback with a perfect blocking stance. I can't remember exactly what she said except that something involved "knows not what she says" and just pulled enough of a stalling tactic for our instructor to hobble in and tell all of us little Chewbaccas to take our seats. (Of course, he didn't say that, this was way pre-"South Park." But the high point of my life was finally saying that to my class. Digression.)
Okay, late for doc. Meaningless, pointless story, but for some reason, I just like remembering it. Cheerleaders save lives.
Of course, she saved the life from me, so maybe that's a pretty decent qualifier.
Roughly 12 years ago, my first of dozens (literally) of creative writing classes. There was a good cross-section of humanity in the class: Jason, the honest-to-God aspiring writer; Amy, the too-smart-for-her-own-good 16-year-old cheerleader; and Beth, the frumpy future hausfrau (I don't know that for a fact, but there are things you know without having proof of them) among them.
Jason was a hell of a guy. We did the whole tour of undergrad duty together. He wised up and headed elsewhere for grad school. Amy is still one of the -- I'm guessing -- five most brilliant people I've ever met. Of course, she was cursed enough to be born into a less-than-wealthy family in the armpit of America, so her life was and probably is still pain. I think she was a cheerleader simply because it alleviated boredom. Beth, well, I don't know her story, but...well, you'll learn enough about her.
I picked up the campus newspaper and glanced through it only to find a huge story on page 10 about the death of Isaac Asimov. Few people were as inspirational or influential on me in my youth as he was. "Stunned" is not the right word. "Dumbfounded" certainly gets closer. Felt like someone dropped a refrigerator on me. Recoiled. Pointed at the paper. Jason followed up and let fly with a few healthy Anglo-Saxon words of his own, Asimov having had a similar effect on him. Discussion followed amongst the others. None of it registered. Everything was still a red haze and a dull roar except for one line.
"Well, I still think it's more of a shame that Sam Walton died."
And if you could've summarized everything I despised about humanity in one moment, that was it. Beth had no idea, I'm sure, what she said, but something in me just said, a la "WKRP's" Venus Flytrap, "That's it, I'm going to kill you now."
Jason, I think, understood exactly what I was going to do and didn't much care. Amy, for her part, could've stopped a fullback with a perfect blocking stance. I can't remember exactly what she said except that something involved "knows not what she says" and just pulled enough of a stalling tactic for our instructor to hobble in and tell all of us little Chewbaccas to take our seats. (Of course, he didn't say that, this was way pre-"South Park." But the high point of my life was finally saying that to my class. Digression.)
Okay, late for doc. Meaningless, pointless story, but for some reason, I just like remembering it. Cheerleaders save lives.