As I walked into class, absently observing the back side of Cary Ross, the tardy bell rang, and we both scrambled to our seats.  If you were not seated when the bell stopped ringing, some teachers would mark you tardy.  Not knowing the new teacher, Mr. Hopkins, we were prudent and scrambled.  He looked kind of military.  It was 1957, and Fall was in the air.

Hopkins moved vigorously to the front of the class making eye contact.  He was tall, with deep-set, dark eyes, with big eyebrows, under youthful head of hair with tight curls.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the second half of the twentieth century.  Though you are not quite adults, I’m going to treat you as if you were.   I prefer to teach big, important things to adults rather than babysit kids.”

“At least, they seem big and important to me.  You’ll decide for yourselves when you become actual adults, or you will forget everything I say.”

Trying to make contact with Cary Ross, I blinked, then widened my eyes.  She ignored me, but I hoped she noticed and got my message that this guy could be worth listening to.  Likely she was more interested in adjusting her hips and shoulders to look more appealing.  She probably wanted Mr. Hopkins to like her, in case he turned out to be “cool”.

Hopkins was talking about country and government.  “Since the recent success in World War II, you have been hearing what a great country the USA is.  I am not saying whether it is, or isn’t.  My job is to teach you facts, ideas, and ways of thinking.  You can decide later whether this is a great country or not.”

“We’re going to start by talking about where America came from.”

“As you might know, the word “America” came from the name of Amerigo Vespucci, a navigator for Columbus who may have been the first to notice that Columbus did not find a new route to Asia, but an entirely new continent.  While the name America was originally applied to most of the New World, it is now widely used in reference to the USA.   But, as a great scientist said: “Instead of worrying too much about naming the bird, let us pay attention to what the bird does.”

Looking around the room, I realized some of us were listening pretty closely to the teacher.  Donny Wilson and Denise Harper in the back row were completely silent instead of gabbing.  Cary’s wiggling around had stopped, and she looked stylishly intent.

Hopkins continued:  “A whole bunch of things happened in the USA for the first time.  Firsts are still happening here.  If the USA is ‘exceptional’, as some say, it is not because it is the nicest country … it is because of the large number of things that happened first in this country.  Here is a starter list.”

“1st country to publish a Declaration of Independence, to gain independence from a colonial power by revolution, 1^st to create a written Constitution, including a Bill of Rights.  Simply put, the United States of America was the first country to be invented.”

Donny Wilson piped up:  “Mr. Hopkins.  Can America be exceptional, but bad?”

Hopkins smiled “Oh sure.  But, I would be slow to label a whole country either good or bad.  A big complex place is going to be full of good things and bad things.  In this class, you should care more about getting facts right and thinking straight before worrying n about labeling things good or bad.”

The lecture resumed … “Of course, there have been and will be many more firsts.  Now, we are talking about people in the future traveling to the moon and walking around on it.  Wouldn’t that be exceptional?”

————————————-

The US also has firsts in the realm of philosophy, especially in political philosophy.  While it had its roots in the Scottish Enlightenment, earlier in Magna Carta, and, even, in Roman law, the US was really the first country to invent and actually practice human rights.

“I would guess”, he began, “that most of you believe that rights are something that is given to you. Actually the concept of rights, in English language and tradition, is more complex than merely something that is given.

Any good discussion on rights should probably begin and end with the part of the US Constitution that we call the Bill of Rights.  Most everyone has heard, and maybe some can quote the line from Jefferson’s Declaration of Independence.

“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty, and The Pursuit of Happiness – that to secure these rights, governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, that whenever any form of government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the right of the people to alter or abolish it, and to institute new government, laying its foundation on such principles, and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their safety and happiness.”

This is, arguably, the most important single sentence ever written, because, simultaneously, it draws a conclusion from a millennium of prior thought, and draws a map for the next millennium.

After the bell rang again, walking out, I followed Cary Ross, tapped her carefully on the shoulder, I asked how she liked our first history class. As usual, she was guarded:  “It was OK.  Maybe this guy could interrupt our boredom.  Are you a spy for Hopkins … or what?”

“No.  I am a young fellow seeking conversation with an enchanting person.  I think Hopkins makes the world seem more exciting than Mr. Dodge.   My mother is on the school board, and she told me Hopkins would be good.  Now, I am thinking about fall baseball practice, and graduation.”

“So, you are playing ball this year? … and graduating, as well?”  Now smirking … “What a guy.”

“Sarcasm does not become you.”

Her face became expressionless.

“Yes. I am playing. And planning to graduate, and then go to Harvard.  Come watch me play baseball some time.  You will begin to appreciate me more.”

“That’l be the day.”

“I like Buddy Holly a lot, too.”

Carry Ross walked away with a stride I had grown to enjoy, strong and purposeful, but also hinting as some kind of promise. I wasn’t sure exactly what was being promised, but I wanted to find out in the worst way.

My watch reminded me to head toward the locker room.

Running out on the baseball field, I was deep in thought … about rights and about Carrie Ross.  Suddenly, as I took a position in the field, a batting practice ball headed for my left shoulder, now curving down and away. With some nonchalance, I backhanded the ball and tossed it back to the ball bucket near second base.   I felt young, blessed with goods hands, and life was good.

Donnie Carlo, our centerfielder, moved toward me and smacked his glove.  “I hear there’s a party tonight at Carol’s house.” Donnie could not see me rolling my eyes, as I replied: “That’s of little value to me.  I’m not invited, and I’m not a crasher.  You would probably be welcome.”

Donnie raised his eyes, flashed me his best Italian-American smile. “Yes. Girls do find me rather charming at times.” Paragraph

I had to admit he was right and I envied him. I had no idea how to talk to girls, and I had proven it within the last hour. In my view, though, there ought to be more important stuff than talking to girls. Hopefully there was.

“Well, Donnie, let me know how it goes at the party. Maybe you can convince some of the girls to invite me next time.”

“Man, you should just show up. Push your way in, and either they like you or they don’t. It’s the only way to find out.”

“And if they don’t like me?”

“Yeah. That’s life.” Again Italian eyebrows were raised playfully.

At that point, the coach called for a simulated game, and some of us fielding, and others batting. The first batter took a strike then hit the ball over second base for a single. I was at shortstop. The pitcher stretched, look this way, and through ball one. I made some signals indicating that the second baseman should cover on the steel attempt, but I would cover second on a ball hit back to the pitcher.

After another ball, the catcher called for a low sinker, which was hit at medium speed to my right. Scampering in that direction I planted, picked up the ball carefully, fed it to Mike Baugh at second base. He was right where he was supposed to be, stepped across the bag, and made a reasonable throw to first. Again I felt the elation of being young, having good hands, and experiencing excessive double-play.

The game continued to be routine, and I was soon headed home with Chuck Winters in his beaten up Chevy. At home, my mom was standing in the kitchen looking at pots and pans on the stove.

“Fried chicken tonight, Sonny Boy, your favorite.”

My brother was away at college, and my father wasn’t home from work yet. My mother took the opportunity.

“So, Sonny Boy, where you going to college?”

“I’m telling everyone ‘Harvard’ .” I smiled.

She looked serious. “Well, that’s a good choice. I guess your father and I might need to look at our bank account.” Then more earnestly: “You know your brothers having a really good time at Carrollton College. You could go there and ride together back-and-forth also you could ride in on his reputation.”

This conversation always overwhelmed me, because I didn’t now how to get out of it. I didn’t think I really wanted to go to Harvard but I wasn’t sure I wanted to go to Carrollton College either.

Categories: Life Stories, Politics, Stories