20131101.0625

It seems that my post yesterday has attracted a lot of attention.  Many people seem to have looked at it and commented on it (surprisingly favorably)--and that is part of the point of posting things to the internet.  Had I not wanted it seen, I would not have released it into the flowing electronic ether where it could be gathered from the flowing currents by those with such arcane devices as computers and smartphones and seen in full, crisp color and detail (at least as much as the photo and the camera that took it allow).

But as I looked into the mirror throughout the day, whether after I had prepared myself for No-Shave November (as I had discussed doing) or after washing my hands the several times I needed to, it was not my own face that I saw staring back at me.  It is after Halloween, so I am not telling ghost stories; the face reflected was the physical, too-fleshy face that stood before it and that I tend to hide behind a hair-shirt of a beard and moustache.  But it was also a face that reminded me somehow of an old professor of mine whom I do not hold in high regard, and that was somewhat disturbing for me.

I will not belabor the details of why I feel about the professor as I do.  Those who know me--who knew me when--will likely remember them, and the rest will need more context than I can give here (so my loving wife understands).  Seeing the man's face somehow echoed in my own throughout the day yesterday, and again this morning (quite the shock to have before the morning coffee), has put me in mind of events now some ten years gone.  As I look back--and I admit that my hindsight is not 20/20--I find that I am doing many of the same things in my classes that he did when I was in class with him.  Some of his turns of phrase have entered my lectures (although more appropriately, I think, given the context of responses).  And I am better off in my current life than I am likely to have been had I continued on in the program through which I encountered him; his "suggestion" that I find another line of work was a good one.  Painful as the shift away was, it put me on track to find my wonderful wife (and with her to make the beloved child yet to enter the world), to have the experience of living in The City (which, if not always pleasant, was informative--and it was often pleasant), to find my way to Sherwood Cottage, and to get to do some of the really very nifty stuff that I have gotten to do.

I am still uncomfortable with the resemblance I see, although the discomfort has shifted somewhat; I have tended to hold grudges, and I think I feel one of them slipping away, but the hate has been with me for so long that its...reduction...feels strange to me, as if I have been leaning upon a thing and am now off balance by its being taken away.  And I will be regrowing the beard, not just for No-Shave November, but because I do not care much for how I look without one--and because a beard helps keep my face warm (very important).  But I have been offered a bit of hope for my teaching; I may not be the only one who looks back on college ten years later and reassesses what happened.