August 25th,
Finally…a moment to myself.
Wild Bill, Lift Ticket and I are currently flying patrol in the Northern reaches of Canada, working side by side with the RCMP in an attempt to smoke some Snakes out of their den. Apparently, several minor COBRA agents have been spotted hanging around the border between Alaska and the Yukon Territories, and although the Canadians were reluctant to accept what they consider to be unnecessary interference, they finally consented to have us tag along.
Although we are currently acting as pilots our true objective, as Hawk stressed before we left the States, was to observe and consult. We are not to interfere unless there is a specific threat to the US or we are asked by the Mounties to join in on a more 'active' level.
It's been quiet so far…mind you it has only been a day. But what a day it was…hot-dogging through the skies above Yellowknife to the pounding rhythm of the Rolling Stones that blasted through the sound system Wild Bill had rigged in the choppers.
Currently, I am sitting on the airstrip leaning against my Huey as I wait for the signal to take off…a rare moment of peace. The sun is still up high in the sky, being far enough North that these late summer days are still long and bright. As a result the work hours are extended indefinitely, taking advantage of the light during this time of year in an attempt to make up for the prevailing dark of winter.
It's been a while since I have had a chance to sit down and write. Things have been pretty busy around the base since I returned to regular duties earlier this month. Despite the late hour of arrival, Duke had somehow managed to wrangle up what amounted to the entire team and had them waiting to greet me as I descended from the transport in my fluorescent green body suit. Of course, Lady Jaye was at the front of the pack and damn near fell over laughing when she saw me.
Damn you Conrad…you had better watch your back my friend. I am going to get you back but good.
"… life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, Burning for burning, wound for wound, stripe for stripe."
Whoa…where did that come from? Exodus? God, if Eddie were here he would be on the floor.
Edward Balcroft was my roommate at Oxford. A prim and proper British gent from a well to do upper middle class London family, he was studying theology at Oxford …comparative religions. A skinny bespectacled fellow, tall and lanky…the epitome of the meek scholar…Eddie and I were probably the most mismatched pair in St Peters. His quiet, pious curiosity stood in stark contrast to my loudmouth, obnoxious American ways, but nevertheless he and I got along very well. We became fast friends, although I did make it a sport to tease him, constantly challenging him to debates in which my atheist views would drive him to the Sherry and Port tumblers in the 'great room'.
God, I haven't thought about Eddie for a long while. Nor 'Nan' for that matter…Nandi Paresh…a Rhodes Scholar from New Delhi who had the room across from us and was reading Philosophy at the graduate level. Eddie used to call him 'the heathen'…while Nandi used to call Eddie ' the Inquisitor'. Nan was a not-so-devout Hindu, a fun loving, jovial fellow who, from what I understand, had taken the bar and is now a lawyer with a big English firm, having decided early on not to return to his homeland.
The debates we used to have! They lasted well into the early hours of the morning. For the first time in my life I felt like my mind was being pushed to the limits. Every day was another intellectual challenge…every night another brainteaser of a session with the other men in the college. It was a remarkable experience.
Before Oxford, I had never really traveled outside of the US…outside of the midwest to be precise. School was a breeze, and most of my very large amount of free time was spent hanging with the guys, picking up girls, and getting myself into trouble. A very, very narrow little life…one that grated on me more than I can tell you…more than I ever let on. I wanted to fit in…I didn't want my friends to be reminded of how different I was…
If they knew I would certainly have been treated like a pariah.
In the words of Homer…Simpson not the Greek literary icon (what can I say? I have eclectic taste)…
"Its the code of the schoolyard, Marge…the rules that teach a boy to be a man. Let's see. Don't tattle. Always make fun of those different from you. Never say anything, unless you're sure everyone feels exactly the same way."
I guess it is time to explain what up until now I have only been hinting at. I am…according to those who monitor and rate these things…'gifted'. I have to laugh as I remember the look on my father's face when the school social worker told them of my assessment. I was six at the time, and my parents had been concerned enough about my so called 'strange' behavior to bring me in for testing and evaluation.
The big man didn't flinch, only leaned forward in his chair and narrowed his eyes at the young woman sitting across from him behind a large, oak desk.
"Isn't that the 'politically correct' way of saying the boy is slow…" If there is one thing about the Colonel…he is not one to mince words. I think I remember sighing and rolling my eyes…a very adult gesture and one I tried not to do as it tended to disturb my mother.
"No sir…no not all in…the exact opposite in fact. Your son…he is a genius. I mean…he is off the scale!"
Yup…that's me…MENSA's poster boy. Have you ever watched the news when they run those stories on grade school children whose brain and cognitive functions are working at a university level? I would be one of those little prodigies…although my gift is a bit stronger than most.
A Gift…that is what everyone calls it. I wish they could understand what kind of a burden it is for a very young child. If they did they would no longer label it as such. Imagine if you will a three or four year old that can read and understand concepts that are difficult for even adults to grasp. Imagine having an intellect as developed as that of Einstein but the emotional and physical maturity of a small child. Imagine that child trying to play and communicate with other children his own age, not yet realizing that his 'condition' is not universal among his peers. That he is unique. That he is different.
Kids…well…they can be terribly mean to those they consider different.
I learned very early on to hide what I was. It was difficult indeed to do so…for as much as it angered me I also craved knowledge and reveled in the power my intellectual superiority gave me. My heart yearned for acceptance and normalcy while my brain cried out to be stimulated, to be challenged…
It took me years to find a balance, though balance is hardly the correct term to describe it. A more appropriate description would be suppress, stifle, contain…smother…as in reality I merely managed to hide my 'gift' from the outside world. I became the arrogant, handsome party boy who everyone wanted to be…the cool jock, the ladies man. I did maintain a very high average, but it came with little effort on my part. It was akin to being a PhD student stuck in Kindergarten…I could skip the entire school year, playing truant at the local mall, and still pass with honors.
Alone, however, I was a reader…a scholar. Literature was my true love and I always had a book with me no matter where I went…hidden deep within the bottom of my gym bag.
In fact, to this day I always carry one around with me, its pages usually dog eared and stained from being crushed underneath several pounds of army gear. To this day I hide my love of literature and learning. To paraphrase Fitzgerald, childhood traumas 'are bitter things. They don't go according to any rules. They're not like aches or wounds; they're more like splits in the skin that won't heal because there's not enough material'.
It was difficult for me growing up, even after I became popular and began to hang with the 'in' crowd, I fought a constant battle against boredom. I got into a lot of trouble trying to channel my energies into what I felt where the 'acceptable' pursuits appropriate for the person the others would like…the person I yearned to be. Sports were a great outlet…but were hardly enough to keep my mind from reaching out, crying out for more.
My parents considered sending me to a special school…university even…skip the lower grade levels completely…but I fought them. I was terrified at the prospect of being thrown into a situation where I would be even more different than I was at the local public school.
Oxford was the first time I let go.
I was in a situation with people like myself…Academics, scholars…geniuses. I was no longer unique among my peers, my abilities and knowledge were finally considered an asset, something to be admired…not shunned. It was like I had died and gone to heaven…opening up avenues that I had only ever dreamed of back in Kansas.
Not only that…I was meeting people from all over the world, seeing things I had only ever read of in books. Museums, palaces, old battlefields and historical landmarks…in my free time Nandi, Eddie and I traveled throughout Europe, taking in the sights. I wanted to see more…I wanted to learn more…it was as if all those years of fighting my intellectual abilities had created a void…a vacuum within me…and now that I had opened it up, it was sucking up everything around it with a ferocity beyond all control.
I reveled in it!
I knew I could never go back to my old life…
And yet…my father drew me back. My family drew me back. My destiny drew me back….
My time in England was not entirely spent buried in the books, although truth be told I was up to my eyeballs most of the time. I did manage to participate in some extra curricular activities such as soccer, rugby and cricket of all things. Hockey, american football and baseball were not at all popular in Britain, so I adapted and took up new pastimes…along with my newfound friend from Hawaii…Terry.
Now here was a guy who was almost a big a contraction as I, although he seemed so at peace with himself…a state I have yet to achieve. As big a jock as they come, Terry was a California-granola type who was the stereotype surfer boy…blond hair, blue eyes, tanned all year round and constantly gracing his sentences with words like 'Dude' and 'Cool'. He is also a MENSA-class whiz kid who was at Oxford reading bio-chemistry. Honors Biochem at that!
He was much older than I, graduated the year after I arrived, and I remember sitting with him on the side of the field watching practice and discussing his future. How surprised I was when he told me he was headed back home to join the military.
"Mind and body…Dash my man…mind and body. There has to be a balance or you will end up like Eddie there…all brain and no brawn. The military will challenge both…and you and I are the type that need that kind of challenge."
"You sound like my father, Ter…" I frowned and snorted in disdain, yet he merely smiled calmly before replying.
"Maybe he's right…"
"Come on…I don't think…" I interrupted but he ignored me…
"'Everything has its own place and function. That applies to people, although many don't seem to realize it, stuck as they are in the wrong job, the wrong marriage, or the wrong house. When you know and respect your Inner Nature, you know where you belong. You also know where you don't belong …You'd be surprised how many people violate this simple principle every day of their lives and try to fit square pegs into round holes, ignoring the clear reality that 'Things Are As They Are'."
"The Tao of Pooh?" It seems Terry had picked up my quoting habit.
"Think about it Dash my man…think about it…in the meantime…lets go and stomp on those Brits…show them how Rugby SHOULD be played."
He was right of course.
I spent three years at Oxford before returning home. Somehow, when I drove up the long dirt road towards the farmhouse and looked up to take in my home it looked smaller…less…less like home. I guess I had finally reached an age where it was time to go out on my own. I stayed with my parents for two weeks…visiting old friends and hanging at the old haunts…but it was stale. No…nothing had changed in the three years I had been gone. It was I who had changed…
So one day I woke up, packed my bags, kissed my mom goodbye and headed for my new life with the army. My father was thrilled…at least I think he was…if he did he masked it well behind a gruff 'why aren't you going into officer's training?'
Ah well…plus ca change…
So, that is my little secret…I'm a brain. Very few know about my abnormally high IQ…although I'm sure they suspect. Its just not as easy to hide anymore…and I am getting less and less likely to do so as I grow older and more confident…or conceited as Allie likes to put it.
Mind you…as brilliant as everyone says I am academically, I am a complete dunderhead when it comes to social and interpersonal skills.
Take the other day, for instance. God…I will be lucky if Alison even LOOKS at me when I get back! As it is I tried to apologize when we got back to base, but when I entered her room she was already asleep on the sofa, two empty cartons of Ben and Jerry's on the floor at her feet and a very VERY pissed off red head standing guard.
I had no choice but to retreat.
What was I thinking…I just opened my mouth an…
Hold on…here comes Wild Bill with the Canucks…ready to go up again. I will have to finish that thought later.
Finally…a moment to myself.
Wild Bill, Lift Ticket and I are currently flying patrol in the Northern reaches of Canada, working side by side with the RCMP in an attempt to smoke some Snakes out of their den. Apparently, several minor COBRA agents have been spotted hanging around the border between Alaska and the Yukon Territories, and although the Canadians were reluctant to accept what they consider to be unnecessary interference, they finally consented to have us tag along.
Although we are currently acting as pilots our true objective, as Hawk stressed before we left the States, was to observe and consult. We are not to interfere unless there is a specific threat to the US or we are asked by the Mounties to join in on a more 'active' level.
It's been quiet so far…mind you it has only been a day. But what a day it was…hot-dogging through the skies above Yellowknife to the pounding rhythm of the Rolling Stones that blasted through the sound system Wild Bill had rigged in the choppers.
Currently, I am sitting on the airstrip leaning against my Huey as I wait for the signal to take off…a rare moment of peace. The sun is still up high in the sky, being far enough North that these late summer days are still long and bright. As a result the work hours are extended indefinitely, taking advantage of the light during this time of year in an attempt to make up for the prevailing dark of winter.
It's been a while since I have had a chance to sit down and write. Things have been pretty busy around the base since I returned to regular duties earlier this month. Despite the late hour of arrival, Duke had somehow managed to wrangle up what amounted to the entire team and had them waiting to greet me as I descended from the transport in my fluorescent green body suit. Of course, Lady Jaye was at the front of the pack and damn near fell over laughing when she saw me.
Damn you Conrad…you had better watch your back my friend. I am going to get you back but good.
"… life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, Burning for burning, wound for wound, stripe for stripe."
Whoa…where did that come from? Exodus? God, if Eddie were here he would be on the floor.
Edward Balcroft was my roommate at Oxford. A prim and proper British gent from a well to do upper middle class London family, he was studying theology at Oxford …comparative religions. A skinny bespectacled fellow, tall and lanky…the epitome of the meek scholar…Eddie and I were probably the most mismatched pair in St Peters. His quiet, pious curiosity stood in stark contrast to my loudmouth, obnoxious American ways, but nevertheless he and I got along very well. We became fast friends, although I did make it a sport to tease him, constantly challenging him to debates in which my atheist views would drive him to the Sherry and Port tumblers in the 'great room'.
God, I haven't thought about Eddie for a long while. Nor 'Nan' for that matter…Nandi Paresh…a Rhodes Scholar from New Delhi who had the room across from us and was reading Philosophy at the graduate level. Eddie used to call him 'the heathen'…while Nandi used to call Eddie ' the Inquisitor'. Nan was a not-so-devout Hindu, a fun loving, jovial fellow who, from what I understand, had taken the bar and is now a lawyer with a big English firm, having decided early on not to return to his homeland.
The debates we used to have! They lasted well into the early hours of the morning. For the first time in my life I felt like my mind was being pushed to the limits. Every day was another intellectual challenge…every night another brainteaser of a session with the other men in the college. It was a remarkable experience.
Before Oxford, I had never really traveled outside of the US…outside of the midwest to be precise. School was a breeze, and most of my very large amount of free time was spent hanging with the guys, picking up girls, and getting myself into trouble. A very, very narrow little life…one that grated on me more than I can tell you…more than I ever let on. I wanted to fit in…I didn't want my friends to be reminded of how different I was…
If they knew I would certainly have been treated like a pariah.
In the words of Homer…Simpson not the Greek literary icon (what can I say? I have eclectic taste)…
"Its the code of the schoolyard, Marge…the rules that teach a boy to be a man. Let's see. Don't tattle. Always make fun of those different from you. Never say anything, unless you're sure everyone feels exactly the same way."
I guess it is time to explain what up until now I have only been hinting at. I am…according to those who monitor and rate these things…'gifted'. I have to laugh as I remember the look on my father's face when the school social worker told them of my assessment. I was six at the time, and my parents had been concerned enough about my so called 'strange' behavior to bring me in for testing and evaluation.
The big man didn't flinch, only leaned forward in his chair and narrowed his eyes at the young woman sitting across from him behind a large, oak desk.
"Isn't that the 'politically correct' way of saying the boy is slow…" If there is one thing about the Colonel…he is not one to mince words. I think I remember sighing and rolling my eyes…a very adult gesture and one I tried not to do as it tended to disturb my mother.
"No sir…no not all in…the exact opposite in fact. Your son…he is a genius. I mean…he is off the scale!"
Yup…that's me…MENSA's poster boy. Have you ever watched the news when they run those stories on grade school children whose brain and cognitive functions are working at a university level? I would be one of those little prodigies…although my gift is a bit stronger than most.
A Gift…that is what everyone calls it. I wish they could understand what kind of a burden it is for a very young child. If they did they would no longer label it as such. Imagine if you will a three or four year old that can read and understand concepts that are difficult for even adults to grasp. Imagine having an intellect as developed as that of Einstein but the emotional and physical maturity of a small child. Imagine that child trying to play and communicate with other children his own age, not yet realizing that his 'condition' is not universal among his peers. That he is unique. That he is different.
Kids…well…they can be terribly mean to those they consider different.
I learned very early on to hide what I was. It was difficult indeed to do so…for as much as it angered me I also craved knowledge and reveled in the power my intellectual superiority gave me. My heart yearned for acceptance and normalcy while my brain cried out to be stimulated, to be challenged…
It took me years to find a balance, though balance is hardly the correct term to describe it. A more appropriate description would be suppress, stifle, contain…smother…as in reality I merely managed to hide my 'gift' from the outside world. I became the arrogant, handsome party boy who everyone wanted to be…the cool jock, the ladies man. I did maintain a very high average, but it came with little effort on my part. It was akin to being a PhD student stuck in Kindergarten…I could skip the entire school year, playing truant at the local mall, and still pass with honors.
Alone, however, I was a reader…a scholar. Literature was my true love and I always had a book with me no matter where I went…hidden deep within the bottom of my gym bag.
In fact, to this day I always carry one around with me, its pages usually dog eared and stained from being crushed underneath several pounds of army gear. To this day I hide my love of literature and learning. To paraphrase Fitzgerald, childhood traumas 'are bitter things. They don't go according to any rules. They're not like aches or wounds; they're more like splits in the skin that won't heal because there's not enough material'.
It was difficult for me growing up, even after I became popular and began to hang with the 'in' crowd, I fought a constant battle against boredom. I got into a lot of trouble trying to channel my energies into what I felt where the 'acceptable' pursuits appropriate for the person the others would like…the person I yearned to be. Sports were a great outlet…but were hardly enough to keep my mind from reaching out, crying out for more.
My parents considered sending me to a special school…university even…skip the lower grade levels completely…but I fought them. I was terrified at the prospect of being thrown into a situation where I would be even more different than I was at the local public school.
Oxford was the first time I let go.
I was in a situation with people like myself…Academics, scholars…geniuses. I was no longer unique among my peers, my abilities and knowledge were finally considered an asset, something to be admired…not shunned. It was like I had died and gone to heaven…opening up avenues that I had only ever dreamed of back in Kansas.
Not only that…I was meeting people from all over the world, seeing things I had only ever read of in books. Museums, palaces, old battlefields and historical landmarks…in my free time Nandi, Eddie and I traveled throughout Europe, taking in the sights. I wanted to see more…I wanted to learn more…it was as if all those years of fighting my intellectual abilities had created a void…a vacuum within me…and now that I had opened it up, it was sucking up everything around it with a ferocity beyond all control.
I reveled in it!
I knew I could never go back to my old life…
And yet…my father drew me back. My family drew me back. My destiny drew me back….
My time in England was not entirely spent buried in the books, although truth be told I was up to my eyeballs most of the time. I did manage to participate in some extra curricular activities such as soccer, rugby and cricket of all things. Hockey, american football and baseball were not at all popular in Britain, so I adapted and took up new pastimes…along with my newfound friend from Hawaii…Terry.
Now here was a guy who was almost a big a contraction as I, although he seemed so at peace with himself…a state I have yet to achieve. As big a jock as they come, Terry was a California-granola type who was the stereotype surfer boy…blond hair, blue eyes, tanned all year round and constantly gracing his sentences with words like 'Dude' and 'Cool'. He is also a MENSA-class whiz kid who was at Oxford reading bio-chemistry. Honors Biochem at that!
He was much older than I, graduated the year after I arrived, and I remember sitting with him on the side of the field watching practice and discussing his future. How surprised I was when he told me he was headed back home to join the military.
"Mind and body…Dash my man…mind and body. There has to be a balance or you will end up like Eddie there…all brain and no brawn. The military will challenge both…and you and I are the type that need that kind of challenge."
"You sound like my father, Ter…" I frowned and snorted in disdain, yet he merely smiled calmly before replying.
"Maybe he's right…"
"Come on…I don't think…" I interrupted but he ignored me…
"'Everything has its own place and function. That applies to people, although many don't seem to realize it, stuck as they are in the wrong job, the wrong marriage, or the wrong house. When you know and respect your Inner Nature, you know where you belong. You also know where you don't belong …You'd be surprised how many people violate this simple principle every day of their lives and try to fit square pegs into round holes, ignoring the clear reality that 'Things Are As They Are'."
"The Tao of Pooh?" It seems Terry had picked up my quoting habit.
"Think about it Dash my man…think about it…in the meantime…lets go and stomp on those Brits…show them how Rugby SHOULD be played."
He was right of course.
I spent three years at Oxford before returning home. Somehow, when I drove up the long dirt road towards the farmhouse and looked up to take in my home it looked smaller…less…less like home. I guess I had finally reached an age where it was time to go out on my own. I stayed with my parents for two weeks…visiting old friends and hanging at the old haunts…but it was stale. No…nothing had changed in the three years I had been gone. It was I who had changed…
So one day I woke up, packed my bags, kissed my mom goodbye and headed for my new life with the army. My father was thrilled…at least I think he was…if he did he masked it well behind a gruff 'why aren't you going into officer's training?'
Ah well…plus ca change…
So, that is my little secret…I'm a brain. Very few know about my abnormally high IQ…although I'm sure they suspect. Its just not as easy to hide anymore…and I am getting less and less likely to do so as I grow older and more confident…or conceited as Allie likes to put it.
Mind you…as brilliant as everyone says I am academically, I am a complete dunderhead when it comes to social and interpersonal skills.
Take the other day, for instance. God…I will be lucky if Alison even LOOKS at me when I get back! As it is I tried to apologize when we got back to base, but when I entered her room she was already asleep on the sofa, two empty cartons of Ben and Jerry's on the floor at her feet and a very VERY pissed off red head standing guard.
I had no choice but to retreat.
What was I thinking…I just opened my mouth an…
Hold on…here comes Wild Bill with the Canucks…ready to go up again. I will have to finish that thought later.