Before my senior year of high school, everyone was on my case to find out what my future plans were. People from colleges and other related institutions called me asking what things I was interested in, what did I want to do with my life, did I need a credit card? Most of things they asked me about I'd never seriously considered, so the calls were kind of unnerving. The worst was my call from the army. A man called me up - I was annoyed with my family at the time anyway - and started asking what my plans were. All I could think was "Do I know you? Do you plan to help me in any way? What gives you the right to ask me things even I don't know the answer to?" Then he asked what I liked to do.
"Well, I like to write."
"Write? Do you think you'd like to join the army and write for the army newspaper?" he asked a little incredulously. Inside I was thinking "I don't write articles. I mean, I could, but I write poetry and stories. Could I write poems for the army newspaper? And why exactly does the army need a newspaper? Why can't they just subscribe to the New York Times or Atlanta Journal and Constitution like everyone else?"
"Ummm, that might be all right." I rarely say what I think.
"I hate to take up your time but do you plan on going to college? What are your plans in that regard?" he asked.
"Yes, I think so."
"Well, do you know what college?"
I knew where my dad wanted me to go; he wanted me to go to and fall in love with his alma mater, a Christian college made notorious for its "no interracial dating" policy, not my idea of a good college experience. And I knew what my mom's ideas were; she wanted me to go to a college as close to home as possible and never break ties with my family, even if it meant staying mentally fourteen forever. I even knew I liked the sound of Pratt Institute in Brooklyn, an art college with an amazing-sounding writing degree. But none of those things were decisive.
"I don't really know which college yet."
"Okay then. Well, enjoy the rest of your summer."
I wanted to say "Oh, by the way, I'd never join the army because I'm a pacifist and I think what you're doing is morally wrong. I think it's people like you who train the young men and women of our country to blow villages to bits without feeling a shred of guilt. I think you're part of what's wrong with the world. People like you live for soliciting kids into shooting people and thinking it's okay because it's their duty to their country. Those people you work for are purposely holding off any possibility of world peace. But thanks for giving me a ring, anyhow."
"Thanks." As I mentioned, I rarely say what I think.

07/23/2001

Posted on 10/26/2004
Copyright © 2024 Emily G Myers