Preface: This was my application essay to Saint Mary's Hall. It is not a good essay for an application, but they seem to have admitted me anyway.

[Transcribed to a Power Macintosh 6100, 8/6/96]

This essay is flowing onto the paper from an old IBM Selectric which I cherish dearly. Although I have a Power Macintosh standing right next to me, a computer is not a machine for ideas. This is. It may be heavy and tired, but it's my machine. Think of it as some tired aluminum Airstream trailer, gliding along a moonlit avenue in the Realm of Ideas.

I will warn you now that I will not write this essay the way my sixth grade English teacher would tell me to, and I probably won't write it the way my ninth grade English teacher would tell me to either. But I suppose that is the way of these things, and as Dr. Furlong would say, "I find it strange that this new method of writing requires you to say what you're going to say, then say what you're saying, and then say what you said." So, this will be different.

I will give you a hint though, this essay is both about a book I read recently, and a man I met recently who recommended the book to me.

I first got to know Mr. Berger during some afternoons in second semester. It was the interim between wrestling and lacrosse, and my broken nose pretty much kept me from doing any type of sport. I would spend my time helping clean up the shop after a day's work, or working on the last project of the day.

I enjoyed doing this because it was different work, but moreover because Mr. Berger is just a great person to be around. He's not outwardly funny or anything like that, but he knows what's right, what's wrong, and what just is. In that way he is a great guy to be around.

Those afternoons were always a great time to swap stories. I usually had only a few to tell, and Mr. Berger usually had many. But no matter who was telling the story, there was always something to be learned from it. I have not the time to go into these stories, perhaps I should, but that will be later. Suffice it to say that I learned a lot from those times, and it helped prepare me for the stress I was to endure during the two weeks before the theater production.

It was also during that time that Mr. Berger recommended a book to me, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. I read the book during spring break, and it brought many insights into what was going on in my life.

One of the many things that book taught me was about waiting. The book showed me that life is like a motorcycle that's just been repaired; you won't know if the motorcycle's fixed until you've driven a few hundred miles on it. In the mean time you may as well not fret about whether or not it works. Like Michael Smith said in Stranger in a Strange Land, "Waiting is."

Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance taught me to realize what a low quality situation is, and to deal with it. Sometimes that meant changing the situation, often it meant waiting it out. Things will get better, and eventually everything will be fine if you're just careful about what you do.

The most important insight though, was about how I should live my life. I don't think the insight came directly from the book, but when I saw all sorts of difficulties coming around me, that book helped me realize what the point of life is. Here is what I believe.

I am no preacher of religion, I will most certainly burn in hell according to dozens of religions. So be it. I know nothing of the afterlife. I have no means of learning about it while living; it is a bridge I cannot cross until I get to it. All I do know is a little about life, and that I can only get something out of life while I'm still alive.

We all are who we are and we can only do what we can do. Life, to me, is about getting through it the best you can. Live it well because you could die any second. That doesn't mean I'll go out and join some commune, because I'd only be lying to myself if I said that's what I wanted to do with my life. I want to get through this life as painlessly as possible, with as few regrets and as many memories as I can. In the end, it might be nice to be remembered, but even that doesn't matter yet. So that is what I learned from Zen and the Art of Motorcyclye Maintenance. I'll just try to get through with it all, just like so many of us. So long as I don't start lying to myself, I can try to be happy.

This about concludes my current trip down that avenue in the Realm of Ideas. I'll soon be turning off onto some other street, in fact I'm signaling right now. However, I will tell you one last thing. I learned last semester that some things happen that just aren't right, indeed, most things happen that way. That semester I left the school I had planned to spend three more years of my life at. That semester my mother lost her job, and no one stopped to notice. That semester, Mr. Berger was forced out of his job too, and he and his family fell into the uncertain ocean of the future. Some things happen that just aren't right, and all we can do is move on.

Over and out, HJB.

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