Mr. Johnson

Hey, Mr. Johnson, you may be sitting at a bar, leering at women, looking for one drunk enough to make with you. You may be too drunk to perform but still horny. Your wife may have left you for somebody who is not a loser and not a disgusting fat slob. It all may well be so, but we will always remember you as our teacher. That incredible person who introduced us to the world of science.

Hey, Mr. Johnson, you may be driving around the mall parking lot looking for a spot. Other drivers may be faster than you or more rude. You may finally end up sounding your horn long and loud in helpless despair. It all may well be so, but we will always remember you as the man who believed in us when everybody else had lost all hope. You stayed after school to prepare us for college.

Hey, Mr. Johnson, you may be screaming at the neighbor’s dog in the middle of the night, waving your rifle around, shouting racial slurs at its owner. You may be retired for years, nothing to do, forgotten by your son and daughter, not caring about your health, hoping to die sooner rather than later. It all may well be so, but we will always remember how you drove all night looking for that boy Drew after we told you he said he was going to kill himself. You found him and rushed him to the emergency room.

Hey, Mr. Johnson, you may be long dead. Worms may be eating your rotting corpse and your gravestone may be white and unremarkable. It all may well be so, but we will always remember how we loved you, even though we are dead as well, in the ground all over the world, where our curiosity drove us. The curiosity you taught us.

Posted by: Paweł Kowaluk