Stephen King and I Agree

I just remembered something. I hated high school. I'm not sure how I managed to forget something like that. Especially when it is easy to recall those feelings born of being on the outside looking in.

Perhaps I forgot because it was so long ago. Maybe. Perhaps it was because I find it easier to recall a few close friends, ones whom made that dreary time in my life brighter. I was blessed in that regard. Other than that, it was a time that begs to be forgotten.

The desire to forget comes easy to one whom enjoys looking forward rather than back. Still, I have my treasured memories, those that simply recollecting can give me the strength to get through a tough day. Truthfully though, very few of them are from high school. Life for me began after.

So, why am I writing this? What jogged my memory? What reminded me of my disenchantment with those days from so long ago?

And what does any of this have to do with Stephen King?

The truth be told, it was the author extraordinaire himself whom jogged my memory. I came across a quote of his, extracted from an interview he gave years ago. I must admit that reading it sparked one of those "Yes!" moments for me. (You know the feeling, when you read something said by someone you admire, that vindicates a particular view you hold.)

"I hated high school. I don't trust anybody who looks back on those years from 14 to 18 with any enjoyment. If you liked being a teenager, there's something wrong with you." ~ Stephen King

Yea, that about nails it, except that I hold nothing against those who DID enjoy being a teenager. I doubt Mr. King meant for all of what he said to be taken literally. The real meaning, to me at least, is that not everyone enjoyed those days. Not everyone wishes to relive or return to them. And that there are many whom simply choose not to look back.

For myself, the inner truth is that while I may never have been on the inside, I will never be on the outside looking in again either. I choose to be on the outside... looking ahead.

Dr. Otto

I realize it is not unusual, yet I think it is a curious thing that memories of a person from long ago will simply pop into one’s mind. I believe these types of memories are, for the most part, triggered by something seen or heard – but not always. Sometimes the spark appears to be of unknown origin. Nevertheless the result is the same; a memory from long ago finds its way to the forefront of our contemplation.

Allow me to tell you about someone whom this morning made a fifteen year leap to the forefront of my contemplations…

Of all my work related travels in Germany (between 1987 and 1995), there is one place that will forever remain my favorite… Trier. Not only is Trier where I spent most of my time while in Germany, it is also where I accomplished the work that is, and always will be, that which I am most proud of. The software that I developed there was unique and extremely complex. The effort required to undertake and complete it remains the backbone of the most satisfying segment of my career. Combined with the wonderfully ancient city of Trier and the people I met and worked alongside of, it was without a doubt, a time in my life like no other.

The work performed in Trier was accomplished under the watchful eye of a giant of a man, both in stature and mind, named Dr. Otto. He was from Trier, a Doctor of Mathematics, and a person whom I looked up to. To say he was the proverbial gentle giant would have been an understatement. He towered above everyone around him (including me at six foot three inches) and he had the breadth of an American football linebacker. I looked up to Dr. Otto – literally and figuratively. Yet he was a gentle person with an immensely warm heart. As far as I know, there was not a soul that did not like him.

The last time I talked to Dr. Otto was in 1996 in Virginia Beach, Virginia (where I was working and living at the time). He had flown from Germany to meet with me. It was to be the first of many discussions concerning the next generation of software that I would develop for him. It was something that I was looking forward to; I would be afforded the chance to return to Germany and propel my software to the next level.

It was not to be. As we discussed the software that he required, I had no way of knowing that I was seeing and talking with Dr. Otto for the last time. Not long after his return to Germany, the good Doctor suddenly, and unexpectedly, passed away. I recall the day the news landed upon my desk. Disbelief and sorrow weighed heavy in the days that followed.

The Doctor’s final words to me prior to leaving Virginia Beach were spoken in German, and my German, not being all that good, meant that I was never quite sure what he had said. At the time I was suffering with a miserable cold and I believe his words (to the best of my crude ability to translate) were something along the lines of “Take care of yourself… I need you well”. Still, I am not sure, and unfortunately the German words he spoke are lost from my memory.

I will always couple Dr. Otto’s final goodbye with the following (for reasons that will become obvious)…

One day, while my co-workers and I were taking a break from our task at hand, Dr. Otto entered the room and said something in German that we did not understand. Our puzzled looks must have seemed funny to him for he then asked, in English, “What do you call a person whom speaks two languages?” “Bilingual” one of us replied. “Correct” he said. “And what do you call a person whom speaks three languages?” “Trilingual” we replied in unison. “Very good” he said. The doctor paused briefly, and then asked with an inquisitive tone that implied he had reached the apex of his queries, “And what about a person whom speaks only one language?” There was silence. The Doctor smiled and said, “That person is called an American.” We all laughed and the doctor left the room. How right he was.