A man came to the door today. I was on the phone. He knocked. The dog barked. And I waited to see what would come next.
He walked back to his car where I could see him from my office window. I opened it and rather startled him with a “hello” from the second floor.
“Are you Michael?” he asked. “Michael Colby?”
I’m never really sure how to answer that. I think you know why.
“Depends on who you are” is my usual retort.
But I was on the phone. I could only nod in the affirmative.
“The same Michael Colby who came to my Cabot High School social studies class and brought all my students a copy of Ed Abbey’s “The Monkey Wrench Gang”?
This time I smiled and energitically nodded in the affirmative.
“I like to tell people that story,” he continued. “And the students loved it.”
“Can you give me five minutes and I’ll come down?” I asked.
“What kind of work are you doing now?” he asked in return.
I pointed to the horses standing in line along the fence.
After a few more pleasantries, Charlie Wanzer of Cabot High School was on his way, with a promise to come see me again soon so we could catch up.
But it reminded me: We need to keep trying to radicalize our youth. It’s our only hope.
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