Fascinating and macabre

   The Hero Syndrome       ------       accounts for a lot in field of abnormal psychology. Not to be confused with Associative Identity Disorder

    Must have been during our senior year of high school, pre-graduation, that we all had a meeting scheduled with the building principal. Or possibly, even probably, only with those students who qualified as potentially college material.  Mr. I. was  a reserved and dour personage who seldom spoke unless required to. During the interview, when it seemed that college would not be an option because of the expense, I mentioned that my brother was presently attending college on a NYS Regents Scholarship. The response from Mr. I. was not to count on that, as those scholarships were very rare. My brother was, as I recall, the first and only student at our school to have ever been so awarded. So that was that, end of interview. No help offered there, or from Guidance  Counselor, either, a lame title tacked on to the duties of the business teacher.

  Only the English teacher, Mr. A., whose class I'd been in for my junior and senior years, offered some help and encouragement.  On his own time, after school hours, he told me he thought I belonged in college; we did used to have quite scholarly discussions, even disagreements, in class regarding  literary and other interpretations. English class was the only place I'd ever voiced my opinions, but he was a young teacher, imported from outside the district, so I felt secure in differing or agreeing, as the case may be. He suggested I might consider attending night school, the only other  option available back then. I wanted to agree and hoped it could happen, but deep down, I knew it would be impossible. How would I get there, and where would even minimal college expenses come from.  As it turned out, not long after this conversation, it was announced that both Dorothy and I had won those rare and elusive State Regents Scholarships and so were able to embark on the college journey. 

    I met Mr. A. some years later, at our 20th High School Reunion in Schaghticoke. He had long since left this area, had relocated to the City, had married and had one child, a son.  Mr. A, had left teaching English to become a Guidance Counselor. His son was given his name, with first and middle names reversed, so R.J. instead  of J.R. and I believe was enrolled in private school.

Mr. A., one of the strongest advocates for and influences on my future, is gone now, but he did have the grave misfortune to live to see that his son became one of the most prolific and notorious serial  murderers in the history of our country. Even so cited on Wikipedia. There is no accounting for some things.