Actually, "non-conformists" may not be completely accurate, but for now it's better than some of the alternatives I'd considered.
Hmm.
Upon further thought, I should change it. "Non conformists" is a word conformists would use. It's stale, it's bland, and reeks of the odor of those that aren't like the people who are my heroes.
"Bohemians" might be better. It certainly sounds better, and definitely is a more colorful adjective.
First came G.W. - an ex-hippie that was only partially "ex" who had long gray hair in a ponytail tied up in a rubber band even though he had long since gone bald, plus the large Santa-esque beard that he religiously shaved once a year upon the arrival of his birthday.
After that came A.F. - possibly five foot five, read headed instructor who bounded across the front of the room constantly that also adopted Spanish aliases in an attempt to get his various works published in certain Latin corners.
Then came C.J.R. - the archetypal wise old woman who, at first glance, seemed cold and strict, but was actually incredibly intelligent, vital, and despite her many contributions back to society which took up the vast majority of her time she still found time to read trashy romance novels and eat chocolate.
She's never owned a television, listens only to National Public Radio, lives in a fully refurbished house in the local historic district, plants trees, is learned in the craft of origami, is active in the local theatrical scene, a leader in a local historical society, gives tours of various haunted locations by means of the trolley system and, arrives everywhere she goes with a flourish that is unmistakable, even if it does seem to be projected from a woman of deceptive understated means.
Then there are the two truly Bohemians who are Chicago transplants that were married decades ago, came to my area, opened a pottery studio, retired some years back to the south of France, came back, and picked up where they left off.
She always wore long, flowing, second hand dresses that looked fresh from the 60's. She had an active fascination with fertility gods and goddesses, and was the epitome of a genuinely good person.
I met him once, and he was just as crazy as she, but she was far more eccentric and sought my help on technical issues while I sought hers to read and critique whatever it was I was working on at the time.
There was also J.B. - a late twenties cheerleader that dressed conservatively, yet remained her sex appeal, who had a specialty in British Literature, a sexual appetite for the young Marlon Brando, and the glorious habit of climbing on a desk and was only momentarily embarrassed when her panties were exposed to the entire classroom.
The moment, though, was wasted on a room full of female students so she thought nothing of it and continued her unusual demonstration, short black skirts and exposed underwear be damned.
She also had her fondness for Madonna and a love of singing Alanis Morissette's greatest hits in class.
Later in life, along came R.B. - a quiet soul who was widely respected among the suits all across the state, and who also had the most inventive classroom activities designed to get his students to find ways of communicating by non verbal means in an attempt to get the lot of us arranged in a straight line according to our birthdays.
He pulled it off. How we did it I still can't figure out.
This man shared my affection for Hawaiian shirts, Enya, and openly declared on several occasions he had nothing to teach me.
I still learned a lot, even if he did honestly feel he had nothing to offer me.
There were a few others I've known and greatly respected (M.G. come to mind: he had a family crest and knighthood in his blood), but I long ago promised a few I wouldn't write about them in any way, shape, or form.
Which is fine.
You wouldn't believe those stories anyways.
So my heroes have always been bohemians and other colorful characters: those that look at the world around them and actively refuse to be a part of it or even acknowledge it.
I fit in well with this group of crazies.
In fact, R.B. openly stated to me that he was glad there was one other crazy person in his class besides him.
I guess lunacy loves company, while chaos obviously needs companionship.
But we'll always need conformists - they only help to make us look that much more interesting.
