Dear Mr. You Read Online Free PDF

my dad said he realized that regardless of the excuse, they all came across as defensive and it weakened them. He felt inspired suddenly as he stepped before the Lt. Colonel, who asked if he’d like to offer an explanation for his misdeed. My dad said
    No, sir, I would not
    The already orderly room went silent. The Lt. Colonel looked up at my father and said, “What do you mean by that, Private?” My dad said
    I offer no excuses, sir. I take responsibility and it won’t happen again.
    •  •  •
    A few weeks into my new approach, I asked you a question after class. Truthfully I didn’t have a question, I just wanted to connect. Anyway, your head tilted as you leaned in to listen. An adjustment of your eyebrows felt the tiniest bit artificial. You were arranging your face to come across as open and interested. I looked down, embarrassed that we were actually communicating; it felt sparked. I was meeting you, finally.
    Me: Sorry, could I ask you a quick question? (I don’t really have a question. Hi.)
    You: Sure, how can I help? (This is my interested face. I’m having trouble with the eyebrows.)
    Me: So, when we freeze in the space after you clap your hands, are we supposed to be aware of anyone else? (Honestly I’m so grateful that you said “How can I help” that I may cry.)
    You: It’s more about the freeze than what follows. Take a scan of yourself to see exactly where you are, which is—
    Me: Right! Right. Sorry. (Shit! Shit. Sorry.)
    You: For what?
    Me: I didn’t mean to interrupt, sorry. (PLEASE DON’T RE-HATE ME!)
    You: Well you’re posing a good question, actually. (I see that you are trying and I appreciate the effort.)
    Me: Oh, good. (Your eyebrows are doing that welcoming thing again. Would it be awful if I hugged you?)
    You: But it speaks to a future exercise. For now stay focused on your own instrument. (I’m glad we’re connecting but I have another class now. Why are you hugging yourself?)
    Me: Great, I get it now. (Your eyes are really sparkly. But like Santa. I’m not being inappropriate.)
    You: Good work today. (Good work today.)
    Me: Thank you so much. (I love you so much. Not to be gross, just thanks.)
    After that day your face softened. At the end of the semester I was doing an improvisation with H. and you lit up, burst out laughing. IV I’d accomplished something bigger than comedy, and it proved that I needed to change. The person who deserves the credit for that laugh is unequivocally you. Letting someone you don’t really like surprise you is evolved, and that would have been impossible if you didn’t have the humility I wasn’t giving you credit for. I was so caught up in your being wrong about me that I hadn’t honestly taken you in. It’s so transparent, how willing we are to dismiss the intelligence of someone who rejects us, as though that renders them incapable of sound judgment.
    The last time I saw you, we were backstage after a play I wasdoing. You were so generous and that made me feel like a million bucks. It would have been so sad if I’d spent all those years and never reintroduced myself; I would have missed out on all of your special wisdom, not to mention the thrill of the view up there on the high road.
    Thank you for being open to another more workable draft of me. It affected me profoundly. I still can’t juggle. I mean to say that I can’t juggle in your way, as certain metaphorical methods I am actually acing on a daily basis, but biscuits or beanbags would be a negative. I confess that during the writing of this piece I snuck into my son’s room and took the juggling sacks off of his shelf. I gave it a shot. I thought you might like to hear that it wasn’t as bad as I thought at first, but then very swiftly it was maybe even worse than I thought. It doesn’t seem to be in the cards. You’d be happy to know that I’m actually working on a certain kind of neutrality. I know, shocking, but I see the value in it now.
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    I . (When I was a