(Respecting the author's wishes, names have been changed.)
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It has been a longtime avocation of mine, during free time, to get a copy of our local Triad Style, target one photograph, and build upon it an innovative theme. Among my proud achievements is the now classic and sadly misplaced Jeremy Buckles death issue. Nearly three years ago, while searching for inspiration in the pages of Style, a photograph of local film critic Jeremy Buckles fairly leapt off the page at me. It was an unusual photo that accompanied a brief and somewhat synchopantic biography. Dear Mr. Buckles looked unusually dim and stoop shouldered in this odd photograph, and so it seemed fitting when I captioned it with his probable thoughts; "I'm fat, I'm bald, I live in Greensboro, and I'm going to kill myself." Throughout the magazine I delighted in drawing little Jeremys hanging from trees, jumping off of buildings, and searching for hemlock. I had bit players in cameo roles, (in the form of other portraits throughout the magazine), defaming Jeremy, promoting ill will and mocking his suicidal failures. An advertisement for a private school allowed me to introduce a 'Jeremy Jr.' a young man attempting to follow his father's example. I captioned a photo of two schoolboys with; "Jeremy Jr. asked me to shoot him in the head after school. He's gonna give me ten bucks." The second boy replied; "Hell, I'd do it for free." Fate even provided me with a picture of the Wake Forest janitorial staff toward the end of the magazine. I had these men griping about having to hose off the sidewalk underneath the clock tower from which Jeremy had leapt several pages earlier. Now I must stress that at that time I had no personal animosity toward Mr. Buckles. Prior to that issue, in fact, I'd never even heard of him. But somehow it just seemed so right! When my good friend Michael Brown discovered my creation, he assured me that Jeremy was in fact a deserving target, citing Buckles's "...inability to write a decent movie review." My intuition agreed with Michael's assessment of the man. It would seem that I had not been too harsh in my earlier judgement. |
When, in the fall of 1991, I registered for a political science class, I paid little attention to the name "Buckles" as it appeared on my tuition receipt. Imagine my surprise on the first day of class.BUT WHO HAD THE LAST LAUGH?What can I say about that semester? While Mr. Buckles could not possibly have known of our earlier introduction, it was as if he somehow sensed it. How could I have known that a columnist for a free, second-rate rag would someday stand in judgement of me?We had a turbulent student-teacher relationship, but one that was not without its warm, fuzzy moments. While I was amused to discover that he had a penchant for Fresca, the physique of a bowling pin, and three revolving mismatched outfits, I was surprised to find other, perhaps more valuable qulaities, in the man. Yes, he was as arrogant as I had assumed, but I found him to be incisive, witty and humorous-- and a far cry from the dull bulb I had created six months earlier. He found me to be "...opinionated and confrontational," and I trust, quite a few other things that went unsaid. We ended the semester as friends, of some sort. On the day of our final examination he called me aside to hand me a newsclipping about the Supreme Court's James B. Stanley case, and to tell me that it reminded him of one of my earlier essays. He told me that, while reading it, he had "thought of me." Michael Brown now works at Triad Style, in an office alongside that of Jeremy Buckles. I now write a column for a free, second rate rag. |
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