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| This original Rand photo is for sale. |
Ayn Rand was dead.
My heart sank. I was living in the small town of Willimantic,
Connecticut, not far from New York City. The newspaper said that the funeral
would be at the Frank E. Campbell Funeral Home.
I knew that I had to be there. I needed to say good bye and
to say thank you.
In high school I was ashamed of my
intellect and abilities. Throughout junior high I was pretty much a straight A
student. I was the youngest member of the National Honour Society at the
school, all the others were finishing their studies while I had barely just
begun.
At my 8th grade graduation I listened to
a millionaire motivational speaker tell us about possibility thinking. I always
knew that more was possible but it was the “more” that frightened me.
Each year the school gave an award to a student who
exemplified intellect and maturity. The thought of winning terrified me. As we
approached the moment that the award winner would be announced my heart raced.
There was a horrid terror gripping my emotions.
The last thing I wanted was to win. The last thing I wanted
was to be ridiculed for achieving something. The ethos of the other students
was one that despised intelligence and accomplishment except that which was
achieved by brute force.
